


put on your warpaint

by borzbois



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Art Student AU, F/M, Multi, Tattoo AU, tattoo artist au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 55,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borzbois/pseuds/borzbois
Summary: hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out? | tattoo artist/art student auHinata meets a stranger with beautiful tattoos. She never could have guessed the turn her life would take when she asked to draw him.





	1. it's just a spark

**Author's Note:**

> i've finally cross-posted this from ff.net cause it's not 2005

The coffee shop is quiet, and currently the perfect place for Hinata to start out her concept sketches.

It’s the perfect time between the rushes of after-work coffee and the late night pick-me-up for college students, and she has little to nothing to distract her. Kiba and Shino, her best friends, roommates, and also her co-workers at the quaint little shop, are currently working the bar and she has her favorite corner booth all to herself to work. Her art supplies are scattered across the table, a mess she’ll clean up herself — after all, they probably don’t know the best and most sanitary way to get charcoal off a wood surface.

The initial sketches for her storyboarding class are due tomorrow, and she’s been putting them all off, mostly because she has absolutely no idea what story to make.

In fact, she still doesn’t.

She sighs, and scribbles over the first panel of another sketch once more in frustration. All of her attempts have started and ended in the same manner — with only one badly composed panel, and angry scribbles all over it.

She looks up as Kiba sets another cup of green tea in front of her and slings himself onto the bench beside her. He eyes her unfinished sketches with a slight frown and a raised eyebrow.

“No luck?” he asks, sipping his own cup of coffee.

“I’m going to fail art school, Kiba,” she says with exasperation, resisting the urge to tear each half-finished attempt into small, tiny pieces. “I’m going to fail art school, and I’m going to end up working here until I die. Probably from high blood pressure.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulder and sighs. “You’re not gonna fail art school, ‘Nata.”

“Yes, I am." 

“Look,” he says, taking a couple of her papers and flipping through them with mild interest, “what were they about?”

“That’s the thing, Kiba,” she says, slumping into her arms, which are crossed on the table in front of her. “I have no clue what they were supposed to be about. I thought maybe if I drew something it would come to me, like it usually does, but it didn’t.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you bounce ideas off on me?”

“I have no ideas.”

“Okay, I’ll go then,” he says, giving her a grin. “What about, ok, think of this, a man and his best friend — a dog!”

“Kiba, if I wanted to write your life story, I would’ve asked you.”

He harrumphs at her and gets up to leave, snatching his cup of coffee with him. “Alright, Miss Grouchy, I’ll go take my brilliant ideas somewhere else. Maybe I’ll go take them to Ino, at least she cares what I have to say!”

Hinata smiles at him and calls out a “Thank you!” for the tea as he walks away, even though she knows he probably can’t really hear her. She also doesn’t remind him that Ino is a fashion design major, and that she probably doesn’t take story boarding classes, mostly because she figures he already knows. And really, there’s no need to bruise his pride any further.

She loads up her favorite 8tracks mixes on her phone in an attempt to find some kind of zen; searches up prompt generators for some kind of an idea to latch onto; even just begins doodling random characters in an attempt to make a story for them.

Yet, nothing.

It hits six-thirty, the time with customers with late-night cravings start to pile in, and she realizes she’s been here for a full two and a half hours already, with nothing to show for it. She slumps into the booth and takes a sip of her tea. It’s lost it’s heat, and she sips with a frown at the taste of the staleness, now that it’s in that awkward stage of not cool, yet not warm either. She continues drinking anyway, as she scans the people that begin to walk in, not yet wanting to pack up for the night.

Then, she sees him.

He’s bright and — well, positively gorgeous, but that’s not the point — covered in intricate tattoos, that even from her distance to the counter, she can see wind up his arms and most likely under his shirt.

Hinata is a shy person — it’s a fact. She doesn’t speak up in class, she blushes on the rare occasions when a professor chooses her work to display, and curls into herself when a professor chooses her work to critique. She tries her best not to draw attention to herself — though as an art student, that is sometimes difficult for her to accomplish. The only reason she is so open and carefree with Kiba and Shino are because she has known them since they were all kids, and they’re practically her brothers.

So she does not know what it is that possesses her to go up to this blond stranger after he has ordered and talk to him. She feels regret the moment that words leave her lips  and watches as he looks her up and down in shock.

“Hi, um, okay, I know this sounds really weird, but um...” She takes a moment to purse her lips and tuck a strand of hair that had fallen out of her usual worktime updo behind her ear. “I’m an art student, and I— ah, I really like your tattoos, and um, I was wondering if I could look at them?

Her heart beats loudly and almost painfully in her chest just from the anxiety of that split second before he breaks out and into a grin. “Of course you can!”

Hinata’s taut muscles relax and she lets out a small smile, turning over her shoulder to tell Kiba to give him his order at her table. She is too wrapped up in the moment to notice the look he shoots her from behind the counter, or the look he shares with Shino afterward.

“My name’s Naruto,” he offers, holding out his hand for her to shake as she directs him to the booth she is currently occupying.

“O-Oh!” she mumbles with a start, not used to interacting with complete strangers that she initiated contact with. “My name is Hinata. It’s nice to meet you.”

She shakes his hand, and she doesn’t fail to notice that it’s warm and comforting in a way that shouldn’t be, for someone she barely knows. Their hands probably linger a little too long, before she jerks hers away and looks around awkwardly.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” she apologizes in a low voice, quickly swiping up the loose papers and pencils strewn about the booth, almost knocking over her tea in the process.

“The workspace of an art student, I get it. You’re cool.” Naruto laughs as he sits on the bench across from her. He picks up some of her failed sketches, tilting his head before glancing back up at her. “So are you interested in tattoo design, or...?”

“Ah, no,” she mumbles, embarrassed, wishing he wasn’t looking at her horrible sketches but too polite to snatch them right out of his hands. “I’m in 2D design — animation, comic kind of things.”

He nods before slowly setting down the pieces of paper. “So, why are you so interested in my tatts, then?”

Hinata is at a loss for a words for a moment, opening her mouth but closing it again before anything can come out. She smiles and lets out an awkward laugh. “Um, I’m not really sure, to be honest? Um, you see, I’m stuck on this storyboarding project. I—I can’t get a story going for the life of me.” She’s babbling now, she’s sure of it. And it wasn’t going to stop until she had thoroughly embarrassed herself. “But when you walked in, I saw your tattoos, and... I don’t know, they just look so intricate to me, like a — like there’s a story unfolding in all of them.”

His blue eyes twinkle at her in a dangerously infectious way, as if he grins with his entire face. He leans forward on his elbows, pulling up the sleeve of his T-shirt. “You’re right, actually. Do you wanna look?”

She glances up at him shyly for a moment, before running her fingers along the smooth lines of ink that cover his arm. She traces the bright splashes of orange and red and blue and green, all staining his skin in an intricate and beautiful patchwork of symbols. Some of them are familiar to her — she has studied object and placement symbolism well, and so she is able to piece together a good part of this story.

“This is amazing,” she murmurs absentmindedly, not realizing quite how long she has been touching him.

(Not that he minds. She’s warm and pretty cute and he loves the way her eyes light up as she traces along his skin.)

“I designed them,” he explains, an almost embarrassed smile stretching across his face. “My best friend — he’s also a tattoo artist — did them for me, though.”

“You’re a tattoo artist?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah! Forgot to mention that, I guess. Sometimes I feel like everyone should know, since I’m totally covered in tatts, y’know, but I guess it isn’t that obvious to everyone else. Heh, sorry about that.”

She nods and smiles at him, waving off his apology, and she feels genuinely comfortable in his company, a luxury that her social anxiety doesn’t usually allow her in a complete stranger. Well, she supposes that she was getting to know him better with each passing minute. That was something, right?

Hinata does, however, jumps and glue her arms back to her knees when Kiba comes by with Naruto’s drink. She didn’t even notice him approaching, something she should have seen because of their location in relation to the counter, and she blushes under the playful smirk that he gives her. He doesn’t say a word, however, except the courteous “Enjoy your drink” that they give to all the customers.

From the smell of it, he had ordered a pumpkin latte, and from the look of it, he had probably gotten an extra shot of expresso or two to go with it. He sets the drink aside to let it cool for a minute or so, which is a smart move considering the usual temperature of their hot drinks, and allows her to continue to piece together his tattoos. She begins tracing the lines along his other arm, before frowning as she scans quickly down from his bicep to his palm.

“There’s a piece of the story missing,” she tells him, blinking up at him with curious eyes, letting her fingers linger across his skin before withdrawing completely.

“Yeah, that’s right. I continued it in kind of a dumb way, alright. So it goes from my shoulder to wrist,” he says, pointing as he spoke, “then across the chest, and then back up again from wrist to shoulder. And, well, there’s more on my back, and that’s just kind of a weird winding thing. But it’s not quite done yet — the story isn’t over.”

“So what happens, between here,” she asks, turning each wrist over as she speaks, “and here?”

“I’ll tell you what,” he says, plucking a stray piece of paper off of the booth table and pulling out a pen from his pocket. He clicks it with a sharp press and scribbles something on it before pushing it towards her. “I have to go, my friend is waiting for me, and man, he’s an asshole when I take too long, but text me or call me and we can meet up somewhere where I can show you the rest of the story, yeah?”

“Uh — Um, yeah, that sounds, um, that sounds perfect.”

Hinata doesn’t know why her stomach feels with butterflies or why her heart suddenly beats a little faster in her chest, but she nods quickly and folds the paper to tuck it into her pocket. He stands up and flashes her the most electrifying grin she’s ever seen in her life, before picking up his drink and nodding to her.

“It was nice to meet you, Hinata.”

She has to take a moment not only to calm herself, but to devote a minute to watching him leave, bounding into the passenger seat of some slick black, and most likely expensive sedan. He catches her eye as he’s getting in and waves at her before he shuts the door, and the car drives off.

What just happened? she asks herself, staring at her own hands, which were just touching all over his arms and his hands and — oh god, she totally embarrassed herself. That number was probably like the rejection hotline or something, she was so stupid, oh my god.

“So who was that?” Kiba asks, and she jumps because she hadn’t heard him walking up to her again. She lays a hand on her chest as she breathes heavily for a moment, giving him a look. He only grins in response. “No, really, who was that? You were awfully touchy-feely with him.”

He wiggles his fingers in her face to accentuate his words, and she bats his hands away.

“He was guy with some beautiful tattoos,” is the only thing she can say.

“Are you kidding me, ‘Nata? You’re not even gonna try to go get some ass?” Kiba sighs, exasperated with her and her apparent cluelessness. “He was totally into yo—”

She shushes him, lighting smacking him on the stomach a few times. “I have my storyboard idea. Go away, I have to draw this out.”

He scoffs at her, sticking out his tongue, because he was four years old and she’s his no-fun sister, but leaves her to her own devices anyhow.

Hinata was often a victim of the creative process, because even though it was fifteen minutes until seven o’ clock at night, and she still had other homework and a class at eight a.m. tomorrow, she was going to draw this out until this wave of creativity passed. She doesn’t remember when her fingers became stained with graphite and when her jeans sported charcoal dust streaks, but as Kiba and Shino start cleaning up tables for the end of their shift at ten, she’s finally satisfied with her work.

It is ten pages of art that she had tried very hard to perfect, of things she hadn’t quite understood from what she had seen so she could only guess, only interpret, and of moments that she had seen so clearly. It was rough, but it was only a sketch and that’s all she had to turn in, anyhow. She would have time to clean it up later.

Speaking of cleaning up, she realizes, packing up her supplies with a start. She files everything into it’s appropriate place into her art bag, which had so many special pockets and dividers for all of her little artsy needs. She grabs a cloth from behind the counter — they don’t like for them to be called rags, because that somehow has the connotation of dirt that comes with it — and sprays a bit of their wood-safe hard cleaner onto the tabletop.

“You don’t have to do that,” Shino says as he wipes down the booth adjacent to hers. “It is our job.”

She smiles at him. “Oh, I don’t want you guys to clean up my mess when I can just do it myself.”

They clean in comfortable silence, and all the while she continues to think of her story. She wonders what she got wrong — what she’ll have to change as she continues on in her drafts. The piece of paper with his number written on it burns in her pocket, and the urge to text him immediately is so overwhelming that cleaning is the only way she can distract herself. She eventually helps the boys clean off the rest of the tables aside from just her own, and piles into Kiba’s Jeep with them after they clock out.

“So what’s the idea that you finally got for your storyboard?”

She smiles, and pulls out her phone in the dim cab of the car to punch in a new number. Her eyes have to squint to read the paper, but it’s alright, she thinks. She saves the contact as “tattoo artist naruto” and resists her utterly girly urge to put some stupid emoji next to it.

“It’s about a boy and a dream.”


	2. we did it right

She wants to see him again.

She wants to run the tips of her fingers along the lines of ink that decorate his skin in a gorgeously unique way, and piece together the story that she does not yet know the ending to. She wants to talk to him, to watch the way his eyes lighten when he talks about his tattoos, and listen to him laugh.

The only problem was that there was no way she could text him first.

Hinata doesn’t know exactly what came over her the last time she talked to him — probably an artist’s desperation and inspiration — but there was no way she could talk with him so easily again. The fact is that she is so shy that it could probably be classified as a disorder. She never speaks in class unless she is called on, she flushes and curls into herself when her art is commented on, whether it’s criticism or a compliment, and she never goes up to strangers the same way she did to Naruto!

“Just text the boy, Hinata,” Ino says, giving her a look.

The blonde is lounging lazily in Kiba’s lap while they all watch tv together in the living room. It was a rule for Friday nights — they spend two hours together watching tv, all three of them. Ino tended to tag along, mostly because she could always wrestle her boyfriend into taking him back to her apartment to “study” for the night. So they all sit, curled up on a couch watching Legend of Korra together, while Hinata bites her lip and stares at the blaring blank text message in front of her.

“But Ino, what if — ”

“No ‘what if’s,” she interrupts. “It’s so simple. ‘Hi, it’s Hinata. Could I come over to see your tattoos again?’ Bam, there you go.”

“It’s not that easy, Ino! What if he thinks I only like him for his tattoos—”

“You don’t?”

“— and not his pretty smile or the way he laughs or his cute face?”

“You guys,” Kiba grumbles, giving them both a hard look, “if you don’t mind, it is TV night, and Shino and I are kind of trying to watch this lavabender get his ass kicked!”

“Kiba, this is bigger than you and I!”

“Is it bigger than Bolin realizing what a bamf he is, like I’ve been saying he was from the beginning?”

“Duh, yes it is! Besides, I’m more a Mako girl myself.”

As much as Hinata truly wants to watch Legend of Korra right now (and she did, because Bolin was so important), she had more pressing matters at the moment. Besides, she could always catch up online.

She looks at the bright New Message screen on her phone with half of his contact name typed in and decides fuck it.

**To: tattoo artist naruto  
** _Hi, this is Hinata. From the coffee shop? I was wondering if we could work something out so I could get a look at your tattoos?_

Her heart is hammering in her chest as she watches a line of blue dart across the top of the screen. She breathes in and out and tries to pay attention to the show, but she missed the last ten minutes and it’s a bit hard to follow. Shino whispers to her what she missed but it’s not the same, because it’s just going in one ear and out the other. When her phone buzzes quietly in her hand she almost jumps.

**From: tattoo artist naruto  
** _oh, hey!! i was hoping to hear from you soon! yeah yeah, that would be awesome! you’re a student, so let me know what works for you._

Hinata breathes in and out very slowly, then her eyes widen and she can’t breathe again. Ino’s blue eyes look up at her questioningly, and the younger girl quickly waves her over. The blonde swiftly slides off of her boyfriend’s lap and squeezes onto the couch between Hinata and Shino. Her eyes dart to the lit screen in front of her before she looks at her friend.

“Well, tell him!”

**To: tattoo artist naruto  
** _Well, I’m basically always done after 2 p.m. every school day because of how I’ve scheduled my classes. Except Thursday, where I’m in an animation class until 6. So any day pretty much works aside from Thursday._

“You’re not making yourself available enough!” Ino scolds, pouting as Hinata holds the phone out of her insistent grasp 

“I am definitely available enough. Besides, isn’t it always you telling me not to be ‘too available’?”

“That only applies to when your date is far beneath you! This boy is like your perfect shot — well, maybe, we’ll see how he stands to the questioning, but —”

Her phone buzzes in her hand again, and Hinata takes a breath as she reads the message.

**From: tattoo artist naruto  
** _monday seems far too long a wait to see you. d’ya think you could stop by this weekend at all? i mean, just if you’re free._

She blinks a few times in shock. She’s vaguely aware of Ino hitting her arm, quite hard, but she’s not actually processing it. A thousand things are running through her mind, but the most prominent one is the thought that he wants to see her as much as she wants to see him.

She hasn’t quite decided if she thinks that’s exciting or scary.

**To: tattoo artist naruto  
** _Oh! Um, okay. I don’t have much to do all weekend except paint a bit, so I can stop by tomorrow sometime?_

**From: tattoo artist naruto  
** _that’s perfect! stop by whenever, i’ll make time for you._

“He’s going to make time for you? Oh, Hina. Honey.”

Hinata can hear Ino and Kiba mutely arguing, but it’s like background noise at this point. She can’t stop the smile that fails to leave her lips as she receives the address for the shop. Naruto’s shop is called Sun & Moon Tattoo, and it was actually relatively close to her apartment. It was only a few blocks away, a ten minute walk at most.

And she was going there tomorrow.

* * *

 

As it was early October, there was a bit of chill in the air, even as she was hurrying the short distance to the shop. She tucks her nose into the fabric of her scarf to keep warm as she pulls open the heavy door of the Sun & Moon Tattoo Shop. She breathes out as the warmth settles into her clothes and into her fingers, and she allows herself to take in her surroundings. 

The shop was dark, with dimly lit lights ornately strung from the walls and the ceiling. The walls are strewn with abstract paintings and glass frames of typical tattoo decals.  The walls are painted with a deep blue and the dark cedarwood floor shines off of the lights. The actual rooms are brighter than the waiting area, glowing with florescent bulbs and buzzing with the sound of needles.

She scuffles along the large room, taking it all in, as she heads toward the front desk. A bright splash of pink hair greets her in a whirlwind of nostalgia as the receptionist turns to greet her.

“Sakura?” she laughs, stunned.

The pink hair was new, as the subtle but definite presence of growing roots showed. But the baby heart face and sparkling green eyes were definitely a comforting, familiar sight.

“Hinata?” the shorter woman laughs, walking over to give her a hug. “It’s been forever!”

It had been. They had grown up in the same small town together, been in the same classes together at their small, all-girls school. It had been a ridiculous, horrifically sexist school, but despite that, most everyone who grew up in that town stayed in that town. The small town cliché, of course.

“Yeah,” she smiles. “What are you doing here? Did you transfer to KU, too?”

Sakura gives a joking grimace. “Yeah, only med program in our whole region.”

“Med program?” Hinata says, smiling. “That’s amazing! But how are you working too?”

“My boyfriend is one of the owners,” she smiles, giggling a little. “He might pay me a little more than he should.”

For a minute Hinata’s heart sinks. Oh God, was Sakura dating Naruto? Was this entire thing some huge cosmic joke that the universe was playing on her?

“You’re worth every penny, really.”

He’s tall and handsome. His sleeves are covered in coiling designs of snakes and purple flames sneak up his neck from under the collar of his neck. He makes sure to slide his hands along her waist as he passes her, to walk behind the desk, pulling some paperwork off the top of a pile.

Sakura makes a face at her that screams _love_ and she can breathe.

“So, are you here to get a tattoo?” Sakura asks with a blink of her pretty green eyes. “Sasuke has a free spot in his schedule for about three hours later today.”

“Oh! Um, no, actually,” she nervously replies. Hearing the buzzing of the needles is already making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. She knows she looks like the type — her hair fades black into blue at the ends, Ino had dressed her up in what she had called a “lazy, hipster chic” outfit, and she exudes the aura of art student with her sketchbooks poking out of her bag.  “I’m not here for anything for myself.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow at her, still not taking his eyes off his paper. “Then what are you here for?”

A nervous blush spreads across her face. She hates talking to people, she hates being questioned, she hates feeling inadequate just for existing. She was going to need a serious solitude painting session to recover from this outing.

“Um, I’m here to see Naruto?” she says quietly. “I’m doing some work based off of his tattoos.”

Sakura and Sasuke share a look, and a face that slowly unfurls into a grin. “Oh, so you’re _that_ girl.”

Hinata could die with embarrassment.

She is ushered into Naruto’s office, a small room with a desk that has transparency paper and sketching pencils scattered all over. Torn pieces and crumpled sketches clutter both the desk and the floor near the trashcan, from missed tosses. She smiles at the messiness. Dozens of designs hang on frames in the rooms, some of them she remembers from his tattoos. She sits in a plush lounge chair in the color, idly pulling out one of her sketchbooks and coloring in one of her drafts.

As she idly shades, she wonders what he could have said about her. That she was some crazy broad with a tattoo fetish? No, he’s too nice to say that.

Before she can think of any more ideas that only increase her anxiety, the door opens with a soft click. She clumsily hides her sketches in her lap, a habit brought on because _everyone_ was nosy around an art major. His bright grin lights up the whole room when he smiles at her.

“Hey! I’m so glad you could make it!” he says, leaning down to give her a hug.

She’s surprised by the gesture, but she finds the courage somewhere in her to at least give him a gentle squeeze back. Her face is red when he pulls away, and she tries to calm down as quickly as possible. If anything, she’ll just say it was the cold. Yeah, the cold.

“Is that your storyboard?” Naruto asks, jutting his chin out to point at the sketchbook on her lap. He pulls up his office chair to sit in front of her, leaning his arms out in front of him on the back of the chair. “Can I see it?"

“Um, yes, it’s the storyboard,” she says, grasping for some excuse in her head. “And you, um, you can’t see it until it’s finished.”

He pouts at her but accepts it anyhow. Her heart flutters inside her chest and she can tell she’s about to get a lot clumsier.

“So, um, Sasuke runs this place with you?” she asks. “I met him down at reception.”

“Yeah!” he replies, obviously excited. “He’s my best friend — we’ve known each other since we were kids, y’know? We went through all kinds of shit together. He’s the one who did all my ink, and I’ve done all of his except one, but it’s fair since he got that one before he was sixteen. But yeah, we basically run the shop of our dreams together.”

Hinata smiles at him, at his enthusiasm, and the way he cares. “That’s amazing.”

“Before I’m gonna let you see me shirtless,” he says, laughing at the way she averts her eyes and blushes, “how about you tell me about yourself?”

The Ino in her head is calling this flirting. He is most definitely flirting with her, and she feels something like adrenaline flooding through her. It is absolutely exhilarating that he actually wants to get to know her.

“Um, let’s see,” she starts, with a nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m an art student, obviously. Uh, I work at the coffee shop we met at on Thursday night. And the two barista’s that were there are basically my best friends and my roommates. They’re my brothers, really.”

“Living with two guys, huh?” he laughs. “Must be messy.”

“Oh, no,” she says, laughing with a confidence that appears out of nowhere. “Shino is obsessively clean, especially because of his hobby. He collects insects, he has all this cases full of beetles and butterflies and everything. Kiba’s messy, but his girlfriend, Shino, and I keep him in line.”

“That’s cool though,” Naruto says, resting his chin on his hands. “Getting to live and work with your best friends. Sasuke and I lived together for a long time, too, but he just moved out the other month to go live with Sakura. Oh yeah! So you and Sakura knew each other?”

“Yes, we went to school together. I’m really surprised to run into her here, although I suppose if I went back home I would have known. Everyone knows each other.”

“You haven’t gone back home yet?” he asks. “You’re like a junior though, right?”

She laughs nervously. Hinata hadn’t planned for the conversation to go like this — these first few conversations are supposed to be superficial and light, right? That’s what the Ino inside her head is telling her. So why was she about to tell him her sob story?

“Well, I kind of, um, left home,” she says, looking down at the hands she’s wringing in her lap. “As in, I said I didn’t want to take over the family business and I was, um, kicked out. Because of that, um, I had to put a pause on school for a year. I sold enough of my art to get me an apartment here, and then I got a job at the coffee shop. When my lease on my apartment was up, I ended up moving in with Kiba and Shino, and starting school. But I don’t really talk to my family, much. I’ve seen my cousin who grew up with us a few times, but, um…my father doesn’t let my sister talk to me at all.”

There is a pause, and the air is so still in the room Hinata feels as though she’s suffocating. She nervously glances up at him, to see that he is staring at her. His blue eyes twinkle at her with an emotion she can’t quite decipher from that single second.

“Well, you’re in school now,” he says. “Doing what you love. That’s what counts, right?”

A smile unfurls on Hinata’s face, and she nods. This isn’t the conversation she thinks she meant for to happen, but maybe it’s what was supposed to happen.

“So, can I see the rest of your tattoos?” she asks, with a quiet, almost sultry tone that she didn’t even realize she was aiming for.

He gives her a grin and pulls off his shirt. Oh God, it’s that stupid, perfect way that boys pull off their shirts that makes no sense to her, but she finds herself chewing at her lip. She can see now, how the tattoos on his shoulder link across his collarbones and thread into his other arm. She sets her sketchbook next to her bag on the floor and slowly walks over to him. Naruto sits straight, with his hands on his knees, watching her.

She reminds herself of where the story starts for a moment, before trailing her fingers across his collarbones. His skin is warm underneath her fingertips, and she watches his muscles tense and relax underneath her touch. She turns, trailing her eyes along where the tattoos disappear behind his back, how they coil around his shoulder blades, his spine. They are in brilliant colors of orange and red and blue and black, with a deftness and elegance that can only be described as pure, raw talent.

“This is beautiful,” she whispers.

She’s read it all, the story in his skin, and there is no reason for her to be touching him anymore. But a hand rests on the base of his neck, gentle and dainty.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his own voice soft. “It’s kind of my life story, really.”

“Really? Would you…maybe share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. I, uh, I totally understand if it’s not.”

She had shared her life story, so it was only fair, right? It was just simply curiosity. For her art — yeah, for her art.

He smiles and laughs, turning his head to look at her. “My parents died when I was a baby, so I was adopted by my godfather. We’re kind of rinky dink family, and we’re pretty fucked up, but…they’re my family, y’know? We went through a lot. I owe my family everything.” He pauses for a second, in some other place. “Yeah, so it’s kind of my life story, I guess. That’s why it’s not finished.”

“I love it,” she says simply.

He gets off the chair to grab his shirt, standing up as he pulls it over his head. He takes a step toward her, and in this moment she realizes how much taller he is in comparison to her. He smiles at her, leaning back and rubbing his head. He looks almost embarrassed, she thinks. But why would he—

“Hey, so, would you be interested in getting dinner sometime?”

Oh.

“Um, yes. Definitely, yes. I would, um, I would love to.”

_Smooth, Hinata. Very smooth._


	3. something beautiful

Biology really was, in Hinata's opinion, quite boring. She enjoyed the finer concepts, sure - she loved learning about evolution and genetics, but coloring in endless diagrams of cells was just not her style. Especially because she insisted upon making everything perfect down to the last detail. Also, all she could think about were the stupid details she wanted to fix in her latest piece.

 _Art student problems_ , she thinks to herself as she tiredly erases another line. 11 am was also far too early for a Biology lecture, but it was the only one she could fit in her schedule, because of course, _all_  of her art courses take up the same time slots throughout the day. 8 am was also far too early for her painting class that came before Biology, but at least she _enjoyed_  that. 

Her painting class was her favorite thing about the morning, even if it involved waking up at 6 am and trudging in the cold to the university. But it was calm, peaceful, tranquil. She could just unwind with the simple sounds of a brush on canvas, with all the other sleepy-eyed art students. It was like how most people felt about doing morning yoga, but she also got to produce something creative. 

Biology, however, is the complete opposite of relaxing for her. It fact, it takes all the relaxation she had built up and creates new knots in her shoulders and neck. Her phone buzzes in the pocket of her skirt, and she checks it lazily, if only to get away from microcellular organisms. She perks up the moment she sees that the text is from Naruto. 

**from: tattoo artist naruto**   
_hey, are you up for some dinner tonight?_

She bites her lip in an attempt to keep a grin off of her face, although it is entirely unsuccessful. 

 **to: tattoo artist naruto**  
 _I would love to! I get out of class at about 3, I'll just have to stop by my apartment and do some homework that’s due today. So I’ll be around the shop at about 5?_                                        

She happily continues coloring in her diagrams, not even minding that she felt like a 4th grader in her university class. She felt giddy for the last twenty minutes of her lecture, even though it leads to only more disappointment. Her next class is a three hour Biology lab. Really, why did she schedule her classes like this? 

from: tattoo artist naruto  
 _cool, where do you want to go?_

She settles into her lab seat and, thankfully, has a few minutes to text him before class starts and she can’t even look at her phone. Silly things like gloves and sanitation rules. 

 **to: tattoo artist naruto  
** _Literally, anywhere. I’m not picky, and by dinnertime I’ll be ravenous_.

**from: tattoo artist naruto  
** _how does a ramen place work? i know the best place in town to go to._

Ramen, huh? She hasn’t really had a lot of experience with ramen other than her usual Cup O’ Noodles when she was too lazy to cook a proper dinner every so often. She didn’t even know what gourmet ramen was like — was it like in animes? It sounded certainly different than she had ever gone for dates, but she was open to anything. 

Oh God, was this a date? This was totally a date. 

**to: tattoo artist naruto  
** _That sounds perfect. Well, I have to start class, so I’ll see you at five. :)_

“What’s the grin for?” Tenten says, sidling into the seat beside her. Tenten, though a year older than her, was one of her best friends and thankfully, her lab partner. Most of the other people in this class were…well…slow.

Hinata smiles at her. “I have a _date_.”

“What! No way! Shy little art student has a date?” Tenten grins. “Is he some huge, buff, tattooed guy?”

Hinata pauses for a moment, biting her lip and looks away. The brunette stares at her, before bursting out into laughter.

“Are you _serious_?”

* * *

 

“Okay, but Ino, this is totally a date, and I have no idea what to wear!”  

Hinata may be having a mild freak out. She was so anxious for this date — which it may or may not be, but her heart hopes it is — and she just wanted to look _good_. So she was pestering Ino for outfit advice, to do her makeup, her hair, to help her with _anything_. And she was _so not helping_. 

Ino rolls her eyes. “Look, honestly, he already knows what you look like on a normal day,” she says. “The whole point of dressing up for those first couple of dates is to show off to grab his interest. You already have his interest."

“But—"

“No buts,” the blonde interjects. “Besides, you’re meeting him at _work_ , and he’s taking you to a _ramen shop_. I doubt he’s gonna look fancy."

Hinata sighs. She doesn’t feel as though her usual fashion of “casual college chic” is enough for a dinner date, but if Ino insists that she looks fine, then she must. She had put on some makeup anyway, just a little more out there than her usual one-tone eyeshadow and eyeliner. She let Ino have her fun, but she did feel pretty confident about her makeup today, even though she usually feels like everyone just stares at her. 

She doesn’t feel shy at all as she waves goodbye to her roommates and starts off on her quick venture towards the tattoo shop. 

She genuinely enjoys the walk. Despite that it's freezing and the wind nips at her red ears, she's always been a winter child. She enjoys looking out the window as snow falls, curled up inside with a book and hot tea. She enjoys the snow itself, soft as it sticks to the trees and in her hair. 

She was born in December when the branches were bare and her mother glowed with the beauty of a summer at the beach. She remembers holding Hanabi in her arms, gazing at the endless fields of freshly sprouted flowers and looking upon her mothers pale skin that stung like ice. 

Hinata shudders when she pulls open the door to the shop and lets the warmth settle into her skin. Sakura greets her from behind the counter, offering her a small, silent wave as she processes a customer. Hinata takes a minute to look at the artwork displayed on the walls, nudge over the design details a little closer. A hawk, with it's wings outstretched; a Japanese-style dragon, curling in on itself, but with a massive, intimidating face; a collection of daisies sprouting from air, complex in it's simplicity. 

Sakura taps her on the shoulder before giving her a hug. She's wearing a tank top (probably only after shedding several layers), and Hinata can see now all the tattoo's Sakura's had hidden this whole time. Across her lower chest and her upper arms, some peeking out on her stomach from where her top has ridden up. 

"I'll let Naruto know you're here," she says. "He's finishing up his last client of the day now." 

It won't take long, Hinata guesses. She wasn't escorted to his office, and he wouldn't have her wait in the waiting area unless he was positive he would be quick. She chats up Sakura a bit while she waits, catches up on everything that's happened since she left town. Just as the conversation hinges on uncomfortable territory, Naruto emerges with his client. 

There’s polite conversation and an exchange of money, and the client is off. Naruto turns towards her now, a grin on his face. “Let me just clean up and we can go.”

He gestures for her to follow him into his workspace, and she does. It’s a small, intimate room with his personal artwork on the bright walls. She notes with a smile that it’s only bright room in the whole place — tattoo shops do tend to go for darker themes. He begins stripping off the layers of saran wrap on the guns and table.

“So how were your classes today?” he asks.

 _Easy_ , she tells herself. _This is easy conversation. You can do this_.

“Mm, fine for the most part,” she replies. “Painting in the morning is always nice, but biology afterwards always kills it.”

“I would love to see you paint sometime,” he says. “I bet they’re beautiful.”

She smiles with a blush as she watches him work. It is methodical, like second nature to him and it is easy to watch. It is almost beautiful to watch, the fluid way he rips the tape off the chair, as he pulls on latex gloves and sanitizes the needles.  He laughs with her and their small talk.

She’s a little warm now that she’s been sitting in the heated shop, but he’s pulling off the gloves to drop them in the trashcan and pulling on his own jacket over a bright t-shirt. She pulls at her scarf uncomfortably, but doesn’t take it off. She’ll be grateful for the warmth when they go back outside.

“Ready to go?” he asks with a grin.

Hinata nods and smiles, brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt as she stands up to follow him back into the lobby. Sakura is in deep conversation with some shady guy that stands at the front of the reception desk. There are tattoos curling from his neck onto his bald head, and there are peeks of ink at his hands, too. There is something spelled on his knuckles, but she can’t quite make it out.

“Hey, is there a problem?” Naruto asks, quickly stepping in front of her.

Sakura sighs and gives him a look. “He says you have a package for him,” she says, turning to glare at the offender, “but I keep insisting that you don’t.”

“I do,” the blonde replies. His tone is short, and he immediately begins to lead the much larger man. “It’s in my office. Come with me. I’m sorry about the trouble.”

Hinata and Sakura share a strange look as the two head upstairs to Naruto’s office, and they can only hear murmurs. She’s never been very good at eavesdropping, anyway. Hinata cocks her head and turns to Sakura.

“Can I see some of your tattoos?” she asks in a quiet voice.

Sakura grins and pulls up her shirt immediately. She has a huge, coiling snake wrapped around lotus blossoms that trail up her stomach, and it continues down her thigh, or so she says. Another blossoming flower of some kind is unfolding at her sternum, but her bra covers most of it. The jewels from her belly button piercing sparkle in the low light and distract Hinata for a moment as she trails her eyes from hip to hip. There is nothing at the left hip, with an awful lot of empty space that looks particular.

“Something’s supposed to go there, right?” Hinata says, pointing to the pale skin of her hip.

Sakura nods. “Yeah. Not sure what. But something big.”

She turns around to show off her back, composed of a huge cherry tree with pink blossoms floating into space in various sizes and at various angles. It takes up her whole back, from her shoulder blades to just above the dimples at the base of her spine. It’s centered very well, its focal point on her left side and using the negative space on the right to create an increasing perspective with the blossoms.

“Sasuke did it,” she says. “I used to work down the road, so we saw each other a lot, but I came in for this tattoo. It took about eight hours, and we got to know each other very well.”

Hinata is about to reply, but Naruto comes bounding down the stairs, mysterious man nowhere in sight.

“Gotta flash our guests, Sak?”

Sakura grins. “She propositioned me, you know.”

The blonde gives an exaggerated pout and wraps an arm around Hinata’s shoulders. “Aw, am I not enough for you anymore, Hinata? You have to see other women?”

Hinata gives him a sly smile, with a cock of her head and a pinch at his waist. “What can I say? I can never be satisfied.”

They laugh and even though she’s not quite sure how she fits into this banter, she’s somehow doing it seamlessly. She can cherish the small victories, right? He pulls her out of the shop, and she can’t help the hand that curls around his waist to tuck itself into his jacket pocket. She almost giggles when his joins her, interlocking his fingers with hers.

“Hands ‘re cold,” he murmurs, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Mine too,” she says.

They pass the shop that Ino’s family owns on the way down, and her apartment. She thinks it might be nice to have him show up and surprise her one day. That is, of course, implying that what they have is going to turn into a relationship. Which is a big implication on her part, but she doesn’t mind the daydream. She doesn’t mention where her apartment is.

He asks her how her studies are going, and she asks for stories of customers. It’s mostly superficial, since they don’t really know each other yet. Of course, she’s saying this as she’s holding his warm hand in the pocket of his jacket and his arm is draped around her shoulder. But maybe this easy familiarity is just a part that comes along with being in an adult relationship.

The shop is small, what some people would call a hole in the wall. But Hinata thinks its cozy, and she smiles warmly at Naruto as he helps her shrug her heavy coat off. He takes it and hangs it at the coat rack for her.

“Naruto!” the old man behind the bar greets, waving a lazy hand. “Glad to see you.”

“That’s old man Teuchi,” the blonde explains, pulling out a chair for her at the bar. “We’ve known each other since I was a kid. He always took care of me, y’know.”

“I gave this brat free ramen for years,” the old man grins. The corner of his mouth crinkles with his smile, and the little crow’s feet at his eyes branch and smooth in fluid movements. His skin is wrinkled and dark, but his smile is warm and he reminds her of a warm, somewhat elderly uncle.

“And I pay you back with interest,” Naruto retorts. Then, he turns to introduce her. “This is Hinata.”

“Nice to meet you,” Teuchi says. “You two on a date?”

Hinata flushes and her mouth opens and closes in the same breath. She doesn’t know how to respond, but Naruto laughs nervously.

“Yeah, we are, old man,” Naruto replies with a cute blush skirting over his cheeks. “So give us some privacy, c’mon.”

He laughs and leaves to take care of some other customers, and Naruto apologizes as he hands her a menu. “He’s like a bartender, y’know? Always so nosy.”

He tells her about the menu, what he likes, and what the crowd favorites are, asks her about her tastes and basically can tell her everything about ramen and this menu. She’s almost amazed by it, really. She ends up ordering a tonkotsu, because the boys had gotten her rather into spicy lately and the light broth would be good on her stomach.

“So,” she says, folding the menu to wait for Teuchi to return. “Are we on a date?”

Naruto freezes in his tracks, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and she can visibly see a blush creeping up his neck. Honestly, she thinks it’s cute as hell and it’s nice for once to see someone else be the stuttering mess. She gives him a sly, lopsided smile under dark lashes.

“Well,” he mumbles, fiddling around with the menu. “I mean, if you want, I thought, maybe, but if you don’t wanna—”

“I’m definitely happy to be on a date with you,” Hinata smiles, setting her hand over his own on the shining countertop. “I’m just teasing you.”

She doesn’t know where she gets the confidence — like seriously, she is just pulling this out of her ass — but it’s so _easy_ with him. As much as she worried beforehand, she doesn’t feel any pressure to act a certain way or impress him when he’s right in front of her. She can just laugh and talk and she’s not worried very much.

Teuchi comes over to take their orders, all the while teasing them as he does. Hinata takes a sip of her Pepsi and accidently bumps his fingers when he reaches for his. They share a look, and when they set down their drinks, they decide to hold hands.

“So where did you learn to tattoo?” she asks.

“My godfather, Jiraiya,” Naruto replies. “He goes all around the world learning styles and whatnot. When I was a teenager, I was kinda a delinquent. I didn’t really do well in school, and I wouldn’t have done well in college. Besides, I thought, what the hell would I do? I didn’t do well in _high school_ and I had no ambitions. But I liked to draw. And I thought what he did was so cool, so I asked to be his apprentice.”

“They still have apprenticeships for tattooing?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s very much an apprentice business. You learn your style, your technique, your values of business and art from your mentor. I have my own apprentice right now, Konohamaru, he’s a cute li’l guy. Kind of obnoxious, but he’s got heart. I think he can do better things with his life, but who I am to judge?”

“I would love to see you tattoo sometime,” Hinata remarks.

“You could come in anytime,” he says. “Hell, you could watch after dinner tonight if you’d like. I actually have a really cool piece I’m doing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she says, smiling. “Dinner and a show, huh? You’re a very good date.”

“I try.” He gives her a big grin, and then settles to lean forward as their food arrives.

Her initial look of the ramen is almost overwhelming. There are so many flavors — the sour taste of egg, the seaweed, and the spicy broth. But it’s delicious, and also presented in an almost artistic manner. Like, this could be a bowl of ramen out of a Miyazaki movie, steaming in a perfect pattern and glistening with just the right amount of oil. They eat for a good five minutes before Naruto stops to take a sip of his drink.

“So, do you have any tattoos?” he asks.

“Oh, no,” she replies. “I’m kind of a huge baby when it comes to that. I’ve always wanted some, but I just never got around to it. Plus, I’m broke, so there’s that.”

“Well, hypothetically,” he says around a mouthful of ramen, “if you were to get one, what would you want?”

She takes a moment to think, chopstick pressing into her cheek as she chews. “I think I would want a kind of traditional one of my mother, from how she looked in her wedding photo. Something pretty, with flowers around it, on my back, probably. And I think if I were to get a small one, I would want my sisters birthday on my wrist.”

“That’s real sweet,” he says. “Thinkin’ of your family and stuff.”

Hinata gives him a sad smile, and they decide to leave that train of thought at that.

* * *

 

Watching Naruto tattoo was almost like something private, some kind of religious, spiritual, _special_ experience that she almost shouldn’t be watching. But he had invited her, his client had given her approval, and so she sat in the corner watching a magnolia bloom on the client’s thigh. His focused face was so beautiful to her, it was artistic: the corner of his lip caught between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands steady as they make smooth lines across his clients dark skin. She almost wants to sculpt him 

“So are you his apprentice or something?” the client asks.

“Oh, no,” she replies.

 _Karui?_ — raises her eyebrows.

“She’s my date,” Naruto says. “We had dinner and didn’t quite want to part yet.”

Karui looks to him and back to Hinata, and the raven-haired girl shifts her weight in her chair, uncomfortable from the force of the gaze. “You two must have some weird ideas about dating.”

Hinata smiles at that. “I’m an art student, and we met because I was interested in his tattoos. We’re kind of weird by default.”

The redhead snorts. “You got that right.”

The total tattoo takes about two and half hours, just from the sheer size of it and the shading. He was very meticulous in his work, careful to get the lines just right, to anticipate when she would jerk, how the lines would change when she tensed up.

 _He’s been doing this a long time_ , she thinks. _But he’s so young_ …

“Holy shit, this looks good,” Karui comments, finally getting a chance to get a full view of it, dark and raised on her thigh. “I’m never going anywhere else again. Damn, Uzumaki.”

The blonde gives her a big grin. “You get what you pay for, Karui. I’m a little expensive but the quality is worth it, yeah?”

Hinata has to admit, it’s basically perfect. There are no mistakes in the piece, which has to be difficult considering its all simple curves and lines. One twitch the wrong way and it would ruin it. The way the lines unfold on her skin is flawless, even accounting for the shape of the thigh. The shading is not too much, and not too little. It’s classy and complex, and honestly, she’s in awe.

“That’s amazing,” she says, standing up to get a closer look, as Naruto begins cutting off a strip of seran wrap.

“You know the drill, I’m assuming?” he says, taping the plastic to Karui’s thigh. “Ointment three times a day for three days, then lotion three times a day until it’s healed. Don’t pick.”

“You got it, captain,” Karui says, hopping off the thick leather chair. She shakes his hand and pulls him into a hug. “Thanks, dude, this is amazing.”

He checks on a few more things with her, and she ends up slipping him an additional tip, which he quickly stuffs in his back pocket. Naruto leads Hinata into the waiting room, where she leans on the counter to wait for him.

“Okay, Sasuke,” he calls. “Time to count tips!”

She raises her eyebrows and looks to Sakura, who rolls her eyes.

“They have this stupid contest every day,” she starts. “They see who has more tips, and they factor in who did more tattoos, or who did bigger ones, all that stuff. It’s a stupid daily contest they have, but their competitiveness basically drives their friendship.”

“I think it’s cute,” Hinata remarks with a smile.

The blonde turns to give her a grin “At least _someone_ thinks I’m cute. It’s hard being around _you_ two. You and Sasuke are so cute it makes me sick half the time.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes as he briskly walks down the stairs from his own office and slides into the reception area, pulling out a lockbox from under the counter. “I don’t know if _cute_ is the word to describe us.”

“Shut up, Sasuke, we are totally cute.”

“Yes, dear.” There is an eye roll and a punch to the shoulder.

There is a moment of almost silence, where the two mumble under their breath as they count out huge stacks of cash that barely fit in their hands. Hinata thinks briefly she should get into tattooing.

“Two-eighty,” Sasuke calls out.

Naruto takes another moment, before he turns around with a shit-eating grin. “Three-twenty.”

 _I should definitely get into tattooing_, Hinata thinks. _Screw being a waitress_.

Sasuke hands him a twenty in disappointment, and the blonde safely tucks it into his money stack. It is then put into an envelope and stuffed in his backpack.

“And those are just your tips?” Hinata asks, with wide eyes.

“Yup, pretty amazing huh?”

She could probably faint.

Naruto slings the backpack on over his heavier coat, different from what he wore out to dinner. Hinata takes this as a sign to pull on her own coat and wrap her scarf around her neck again. She waves goodbye to Sakura and Sasuke, who are apparently locking up for the night, with a promise to see them again soon. Sakura gives her a wink as she is lead out by the blonde, to which Hinata abruptly turns her head and tries to pretend her blush is just from the cold.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. “It is pretty late. I would feel better about it.”

It is rather late, Hinata notices with a grimace. Her 9 am class will have no sympathy for her tomorrow. She also notices she has three missed calls and numerous messages from her roommates asking if she’s been kidnapped.

 **to** : **the boys**  
_Calm down, I’m fine. On my way home now. And yes, he is walking me home!! And no, you do not get to be weird!!_

They were going to be weird.

“My house is this way,” she says.

“Y’know,” he says, “it would be real convenient to just pick you up for dinner every day. A real easy grab and go.”

His grin is contagious and she can’t help but find herself smiling and winding her fingers through his.

“Well, we could definitely work something out.”

She was going to get praise from Ino for all this smooth talking. Finally, all those years of awkwardness have paid off in the greatest karmic retribution in history. She doesn’t even question it at this point, just lets the words run off her tongue.

She pulls him across the streets with a laugh and a few stumbles, and she can already hear the scuffle and Kiba, Shino, and Ino fight to peek out the window first. The struggles of living on a ground floor flat.

“So, are you free for dinner tomorrow?” he asks quietly.

“I do think I am,” she replies. “But I won’t be able to stay for a show, again. I’m lucky I was able to tonight. I have homework and all that.”

“What a nerd,” he says, grinning. “Homework. Only nerds who go to nerd school do homework.”

“One thing you should know about me, is that I am the biggest nerd of them all.”

Not entirely true, since she did decide to pursue an art degree instead of something more “stable” and “realistic”. But she was an A-type, that’s for sure. She took nothing lower than a B, and only begrudgingly at that. Which was why Biology just _made her so angry_.

She thinks he’s about to kiss her. After all, she’s leaning back on the cement railing for the stairs that lead up to the flat, and he’s leaning on it next to her. Their eyes lock, and God, she’s in a fucking Lifetime movie —

“Hinata!” Kiba calls, harshly pulling open the front door. “We were worried sick about you! Your dinner went cold, you didn’t answer our calls or texts—…Am I interrupting something?”

Yep, definitely a Lifetime movie.

“Kiba,” Ino hisses, pulling her boyfriend by the scruff of his collar back into the house, slamming the door behind her. They can still hear her, because the window is just slightly cracked. “You fucking idiot, this is Hinata’s big moment, and you _had_ to go fuck it up! Why am I dating you? Jesus!”

Hinata and Naruto give each other a quiet look, before bursting out into laughter.

“Well, you’re certainly not the mother of your group,” Naruto comments with a sly grin.

“The boys are protective of me,” she says, laughing nervously as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Plus, I’m usually never out past midnight.”

“Well, I’ll have to bring you home in time for bedtime next time,” he says, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek. “Let me know what your curfew is for tomorrow, yeah?”

She bites her lip and smiles up to him. “I’ll let you know.”

She waves goodbye to him, thinking of how silly he is as he heads back in the same direction he came. She could have walked home by herself, but she supposes she doesn’t mind. She pulls open the heavy door to her apartment and stares for a moment at Kiba, before shaking her head and giving him a playful push on his shoulder as she heads to the bathroom to wash up for bed.

“You’re such a goof,” she says.

Kiba harrumphs and folds his arms. “You could’ve been lost, or dead, or _worse_ —”

Ino promptly slaps a hand over his mouth and pays no attention to his sideways glare. “Soooo, how did it go?”

Hinata turns around and sighs. “Absolutely, positively fucking _perfect_.”

Ino’s mouth drops open. “You never curse! Oh my God, it was that good? What you two even do—”

Hinata smiles wryly and closes the bathroom door behind her.

“No, Hinata! I have to know! This is going _to eat at my insides_! Hin _ata_!”

* * *

 

Naruto’s phone rings just as he slings his worn backpack on his dining room table, which is cluttered with tattoo designs and transparency paper. His kit of art supplies is somewhat neatly collected in the huge, clear case he has for them, and a briefcase sits at the corner of the table, locked and careful in it’s positioning. 

“What?” His tone is harsh as he answers.

His blue eyes shift around the room as he listens to the other line, before his blond brows furrow. “What the fuck do you mean I owe another ten grand? I thought we were clear for this month!”

He pins the phone between his jaw and his shoulder as he unlocks the heavy briefcase. The overhead light glints in the shining silver and sleek black of the contents, and against the glossy surface of dozens of photographs. He tosses a few to the side, adding to the mess. Their faces are marked with dark Xs, useless to him now.

“How the fuck do you expect me to get ten grand in a week? What do you mean _just figure it out_? Fuck, man, you’re killing me. One of your boys collected eight grand from me just today! What do you _mean_ that’s from last month?”

He slumps down in his worn dining chair, one that he inherited from his parents, made from a horrific texture that he doesn’t even know how his mom would have approved of. His head sinks into a tired, aching hand, running through his hair, still chill from outside. “I’ll have it to you by Saturday. Yeah, bye.” Click.

Naruto heaves a deep sigh and stares up at the ceiling.

“How the fuck did I get myself into this?”


	4. you fill my head with you

It’s not like they're dating or anything.

 _No, we’re not dating_ , Hinata thinks as she viciously flicks her paintbrush across the canvas. _We’re not dating, but he hasn’t texted me back in three days._  

He hadn’t texted her back. Or answered her calls. He wasn’t even there when she showed up at the shop that one time! And when she had mentioned that she was just stopping in to see if he was there, Sasuke and Sakura had both shared an awkward look and said, “He’s…not in right now. Check back in a few days."

One day is a given period. Sometimes things happen, sometimes someone is busy and they just forget to get back to you in that day. But the next day, they usually remember, or they think about you and see that you had texted them. Two days was coincidence. But three days? Either he was dead or he really didn’t want to talk to her.

So what the hell happened? She had thought everything had gone really well. They had a great time at dinner, they had connected really well, and they had even almost kissed! Why was he avoiding her?

“If he really wasn’t interested, he could’ve just told me,” she mumbles, staring out at the glistening lake.

She had gotten all in a rush for some “alone time." Kiba had let her borrow his car for a drive out to the wilderness to paint and relax and be alone. But now, she wishes someone was with her. Now, there was no one to stop her from angrily slashing at the canvas, there was no one to stop the angry tears from stinging at her eyes, and no one to stop her hands from shaking. She doesn’t know whether she’s mad, or sad, or just plain upset. Probably all three.

She gives herself a moment to breathe. She sets down her paintbrush and carefully perches her palette on the rock she had been using to sit on. She lays down in the soft grass and goes through her meditation process. It’s been drilled into her head ever since she can remember. Her father’s voice, stern and commanding, as he walked around the edges of the dojo.

_Breathe in, and out. In. Out._

Like a mantra, she repeats it to herself. She feels as though she is four again, learning the basics of aikido — and her whines of “Why are we learning aikido if you run a jujitsu dojo, Daddy?” — that she took for granted at the time. She can almost imagine the dojo again: the way the rubber tatami mats stick to her bare feet, the distinct smell of sweat mixing with cleaning supplies, the way she would always have to blow her hair out of her face when she was fighting.

She can hear her father’s voice in her ear —

“This is about inner peace, control. Why don’t you understand that? Why do you have to be so out of sync with yourself? Why can’t you realize that what you really want is to stay here? Hinata, you’re just a—"

She takes a deep breath in and her eyes fly open to look at the sky above her. Streaks of white and gray blur between the color of the sky, which was quickly fading from a blue to a robust orange. She stares at it for a moment longer, willing the thoughts in her head to stop. They don’t. They never do, when she gets on this tandem. It’s rather annoying.

All she can replay in her head is that day — thunder striking the sky with a vicious anger, the way she screamed at her father, words curling on her tongue that have wanted to unfurl for years. She remembers Hanabi watching with dull eyes from the top of the stairwell, as she fought him right in the living room. She can still feel the splinters of the coffee table getting stuck in her fingers when she roundhoused him right into it, and some days she swears there are still some stuck in there.

Hinata slaps on a few more strokes onto her canvas, just to get the rest of the paint off of her palette. She lets that new coat dry as she packs the rest of her things up. Her hands are filthy, from dirt and paint alike. She inspects the paint chips that are embedded deep in the moons of her nails, and realizes with a grimace that her boss was not going to pleased with her when she got to work. If she got back quick enough, she might have time for a quick shower before she heads back to work, but it was doubtful. She had gone way out of her way, and she was probably already late as it was.

She carefully sets all of her supplies in the back of the Jeep, and closes the hatchback with care. Kiba, though he loved his car, is a little rough with it — slamming door, spilling drinks, the countless empty bags of fast food in the backseat. Shino told him once that it was because of the standard of masculinity set upon him by society, as well as the stereotypical demographic of  a beefy, macho guy with a Jeep. Kiba had replied with, “I was raised by my mother and my sister, at no point has masculinity ever been a fucking issue past the age of puberty.” 

The drive is just as gorgeous as before, even more in the delicate light of the sunset, but she’s mostly worrying the whole time. She couldn’t afford to be late today — it was her short shift, and she was barely making rent these days. 

“Maybe I should sell some paintings,” she muses to herself. The rejects, of course — the ones that weren’t atrocious, but didn’t quite stand up to art school critique. Normal people would think they’re nice — good decorations, placeholders, things to say “oh yes, I dabble in collections of fine art” about. She needs to set up an Etsy shop, she thinks. Or a Craftly, or a Patreon, or something. Perhaps she’ll ask around, see what the other students use. 

Her phone rings, and she grimaces as she picks it up. It’s probably her manager, she’s probably late. She doesn’t even look at the screen, clumsily fumbling to blindly get it to the right screen and swipe to answer it. 

“Hello?"

“Hey, sorry I missed all your calls."

Oh God. Naruto. This, she was not expecting. Her heart drops to her stomach and her stomach jumps up to her throat. 

“Oh, it’s fine, I was just…um, kinda wondering what was up since you didn’t text me back at all."

“Yeah… I kinda lost my phone. Haha, sorry about that."

Her brow furrows. “Oh? I checked at the shop, too, since I was kind of worried something was wrong, and they said you weren’t in. I assumed you were out of town or something?"

“Well, see, I lost my phone at home, but I had a plane to catch to go out of town and I kinda had to leave it there. I only got back a few hours ago and I just found this thing and plugged it in."

“Oh, well, that makes sense. Why were you out of town?"

A pause. “Just some business stuff. I was trying to get us registered for a tattoo expo that’s a few hours west. But yeah, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I woulda texted you from the cheap prepaid I got to keep up with business stuff while I was there, but I didn’t have your number memorized, y’know how that is."

She laughs. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. I’m just glad that you’re not, I don’t know, dead or something."

He laughs, and even through the tinny discordance of the phone, she can hear it twinkle in her ears. It makes her heart flutter like mad. “How about to celebrate me not being dead, you go out to dinner with me tonight? And to apologize for making you even worry that I was dead, I’ll pay for it?"

Hinata bites her lip and looks sadly at the flashing clock on the dashboard. “I really, really _really_  wish I could. Honestly. But I have work tonight. Raincheck?"

“Tomorrow?"

She smiles. “Yeah, that sounds good. You know…"

“I know…what?"

“You could even come into my work tonight. I mean, if you have time. If you’re not super tired from your flight. It’s Friday, I’m not too worried about any homework. I could come over and hang out or...um, something?"

Well, if that didn’t sound sexual as hell. It’s not how she meant it, at all. Her pause was part of her awkward, stupid stuttering bullshit. And while he is one of the sweetest guys she’s ever known, he _is_  a guy. So, he’s probably thinking down the lines of not too clean right now.

“Yeah? What time do you get off?"

“I get off at eight. A little late, but it’s my short shift."

“That sounds good. Maybe I’ll be there a little early so I can get a coffee from you, too?"

“I would make your coffee perfectly. You don’t even _know_."

She grins and laughs with him on the phone for a while. It actually isn’t until she’s pulling into the parking lot and pulling out her purse and her uniform to change into that she tells him she has to go. But Hinata’s smiling and giggling and Kiba gives her a gross look as he lets her under the counter to change in the employee bathroom. He’s only doing this to tease her, of course, because she did the same thing to him when he and Ino first got together. Payback’s a bitch, after all. 

“Did that asshole finally text you back?” Kiba asks as she emerges behind the counter, cleaned up and ready for work. Her hair has been pulled into a neat ponytail and her visor is tucked just underneath it. She gives him an exasperated look as she pulls on her apron and begins tying it. 

“He was out of town and lost his phone right before he got on the plane,” she tells him, matter-of-factly.

“A likely story,” he snorts. “‘Nata, I don’t know if you realize that I’m a guy. I—"

“Are you really?” Shino retorts. “I would have never known."

“Shut up, Shino!” Kiba gives a side glance to their manager, glowering at them from the register. “Look, I know how guys think. Maybe he—"

“Kiba, just, don’t."

“But—"

Hinata sends him a scathing glare, one of which he’s never seen come her loving, innocent face. Well, she was kinda their mom, so it makes sense that she would have the fury of one, too. He sinks into himself and readjusts his hat, further messing up his already disheveled hair underneath. She tries to hold that look for as long as she can, but a smile creeps onto her face as a huge tuft of hair sticks out unevenly at the back of his head.

“You dork,” she says, pulling the cap off his head and smoothing down his hair. “Can’t do anything without me around, can you?"

“Nope,” he grins. 

* * *

 

Work is uneventful. Mostly full of university students getting that last fill to finish off those essays due at midnight, and the _other_  kind of university students getting their expresso shots before a hardy night of partying. She is a master barista, and none of it is too hard for her to handle. It’s not until she whips around to yell out an order does she see Naruto grinning at her at the side of the bar. 

“Hey,” she says, leaning over. “What do you want? I get one free drink per shift."

He shrugs. “Surprise me. I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing."

A man who knows the way to her heart. 

She rings up a pumpkin spice latte with two shots of expresso, just like he ordered last time, but adds a pump of vanilla to it, too. A little sweeter, but it would wash out the strong taste of the expresso. She’s not sure if he’ll like it, but this way she could get a feel for what he did like. In the near future, she could be making him his favorite drinks all the time, right before they went on dates together, or when he picked her up from work in the evening, or —

Okay, she was getting too ahead of herself. 

After all, they're not even dating yet. But...he was picking her up from work at eight. He wanted to go out to dinner with her _again_. Well, they weren't dating, but they definitely had to be...something, right? 

Ugh. This was so much easier in high school. There was no tiptoeing around whether or not you were dating — if you liked each other, it was a pretty sure thing. Not like adulthood...where it was all talk of labels and making sure that you were, in fact, in a commited relationship. 

Hinata whips up the drink in a flash, and calls him over to grab it. Their fingers brush as she hands him his drink and she tries to pretend like a shiver doesn’t run through her. 

“Pumpkin spice with two shots, like the night we met,” she explains, with a blush. “But a little something extra."

“How did you know that was my drink?” he asks, a smirk widening on his face.

“Oh, I — ah, well, I could smell it. I’m pretty fine-tuned to this stuff now. Um, anyway, ah, I should be off in like fifteen? I just have some chores to finish up."

“‘Kay,” he says. “No rush. I like watching you work."

She blinks for a moment, startled. “You — You do?"

He gives her an embarrassed smile and scratched the back of his head. “You’re just so into it, y’know? And y’look like you’re good at it."

She laughs, and begins tiptoeing back to finish off her assigned chores. “Wait until you see me paint."

She works for the next twenty minutes in a happy daze, but all the while aware that he was watching her as she worked. Cleaning the machines was easy enough, and she was just happy she wasn’t closing and didn’t have to worry about any of that. She practically prances off to the back room and the bathroom to change, tucking Kiba’s keys into his apron pocket as she ducks under the counter. 

“Careful with my painting in the back,” she tells him. “Bring just the painting in when you get home, ok? I’ll get the rest tomorrow morning."

Kiba nods and rolls his brown eyes at her, waving her off. 

She smiles as she sees Naruto waiting for her by the door, and he opens the door for her as they leave. She shivers at the unprecedented gust of brisk air as they exit the shop. He instinctively wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs to her. “The car might still be warm."

She doesn’t mind much. He’s warm and the way he kisses her temple makes her feel loved and safe and absolutely totally smitten. He smells a little like pumpkin spice, but also largely of his own scent. She tries to take as sly of a sniff as she can — patchouli and…sage? There’s also something a little sharper in there, dirtier, but it’s not his scent, she knows. She doesn’t think much of it. 

The cab of his car _is_  still warm as she climbs into it. He owns a black Honda, something she didn’t really see him having.

“You know, I saw you as more of a bright red Mustang kinda guy,” she remarks with a smirk as he turns the engine over. 

He groans. “In my dreams. Unfortunately, I have to do affordable right now."

She raises an eyebrow. “Why? You must make a ton of money…I mean, even just on _tips_ …"

He gives a sigh and a shrug. “The shop is expensive to keep up with. So is my condo, now that I’m on my own. And I have some...other loans I’m paying back still."

She leaves it at that. It makes sense. Owning your own business was very expensive — she knew that just from the upkeep of the dojo. She can’t even imagine paying for the upkeep of a tattoo shop. All the ink, tattoo guns, electric bills, transfer papers, seran wrap… She doesn’t doubt that  money was still awfully tight for him. 

Rain starts up as they’re driving through downtown. It shines on the pavement in the low light of the street lamps, and she inhales the smell with a smile. She loves the smell of Naruto that envelops her, and she loves the scent of rain that’s currently wafting through the heater. She is so completely relaxed, in his safety and comfort. 

Hinata rests her hand on the armrest and is pleasantly surprised when his hand finds hers. Their fingers interlock and she goes deeper into her relaxed enchantment. His thumb rubs circles into her palm and she honestly feels like she could melt, right here. She’s getting a little sleepy now, having gotten up early for class today. 

 _I refuse to fall asleep at his house_ , she thinks. _I want every moment with him that I can._

"That coffee was fantastic," he says, pulling into a parking lot. "What did you put into it?" 

"Just a shot of vanilla," she replies with a smile. 

His condo is, in a word, charming. It’s on the second floor, with a great view of the woods that encircle through a good portion of town, and peaking just over the horizon of trees is the towering buildings of the university. The wood floors shine in the subtle lights, glossy and obviously cared for. She smiles at the dining room chairs that have a tacky upholstery. 

“They were my parents,” he explains at her teasing look. “God, I don’t even known how my mom even bought that. It’s so _eighties_.” 

They laugh and head for the couch, flicking on Netflix. She wiggles into his side as he scrolls through movies and tv shows. His couch is warm and comfy and she can sink into it forever.

“Is _Lilo and Stitch_  okay?” he asks.

“Is that even a question?” she says, poking him in the stomach. “Yes. You’re my new favorite now, by the way."

“Yeah?” he grins, setting the remote down on the coffee table with a _clink_. “Y’like it that much?"

“It’s me and my sister’s movie,” she says. “Because our relationship is literally Nani and Lilo."

Hinata gives him a sad smile and pulls out her phone for just a moment. She tries not to notice that he’s trying really hard not to look at her screen. She doesn’t mind anyway. 

 **to: Neji  
** _Thinking of you guys. I’m watching Lilo and Stitch. Give her a hug for me, please? Love you both._  

“Is that your cousin?” Naruto asks as she tucks her phone away. She just nods and gives him a smile that says she doesn’t want to talk about it. He understands, tucking her head under his chin and giving her waist a squeeze. 

There is a solid twenty minutes of them watching the movie. Of little comments and jokes, of fond touches and gentle laughs. Hinata has never felt this close to anyone ever, let alone this comfortable with a guy, asides from Kiba and Shino who are her brothers for all intents and purposes. She is at ease in his arms, in the way his hand feels in hers.

“Y’know,” he starts, trailing off. She untucks herself from him and looks up with an expectant smile, urging him to continue. “ _You_  are really cute."

She can’t help the smile that unfurls itself on her lips like a crashing tidal wave. She covers her face in embarrassment for a moment, laughing, before he gently takes them and places them in his own. Her eyes are still closed and she’s still laughing when he kisses her. 

It only lasts for a moment, chaste and sweet, but it makes her stop in her tracks. There is a long, lingering pause, as their noses touch, as her eyelids flutter open, as her hands squeeze back at his. The smile never leaves her lips as she bites her lip and locks eyes with him. She leans forward and kisses him again, gentle and sweet. 

One of her hands trails up his shoulder and plays with the soft, buzzed hair at the nap of his neck. Naruto chuckles into their kiss and rubs soothing circles into her hip, an action she might think inherently sexual but that she is so pleasantly relaxed with. Her head feels light and she is happy. She doesn’t feel pressured to deepen their kisses, either, which is something she’s usually terrified of when she kisses someone for the first time. They are happy with the way they kiss, even as their legs tangle together on the sofa and she wraps her arms around his neck. 

They pause for a moment and take a second to appreciate their situation. He hovers above her on the soft cushions of the couch, and her hands wander his neck and shoulders and chest, trailing the swirls of tattoos that cover the skin she can see above the collar of his shirt. Her lips are swollen with flushed cheeks that she’s sure extend all the way down her neck. 

“You know,” she says, licking her lips, a little breathless, “ _you_  are a _really_  good kisser."

Naruto grins at her. “Well, thank you. Can’t say you’re too bad either."

There’s a pause, and they burst into laughter. They reassemble themselves again to properly watch the movie — Hinata curls up on his chest,  both of them sprawled out on the couch, legs still tangled. The sound of his heartbeat thudding deep in his chest is calming to her, as she listens to it slow to a steady rhythm. The constant beat calms her own down, and also relieves her from a lot of anxiety. 

 _He gets the same way_ , she grins, thinking to herself. _He is just as flustered as I am_. 

“Hmm,” she hums, shifting to look at him. 

“What?” he asks, reaching down to peck at her nose. 

“So I was wondering…” 

“You really have a thing about trailing off at the beginning of important sentences, huh?"

“…are we a…thing?"

“By _thing_  do you mean if we’re dating?"

She blushes and looks away. “Well, yes. Kinda."

“Kinda?"

“I mean, I know it’s kinda like we just met each other, and um, sometimes I know that’s a little too early to put labels on stuff, and, uh.” Oh no, the stutters are back. _Only God can help me now_. “But, I mean. I really, um, I really like you. And if you don’t wanna say we’re dating, that’s fine, but maybe, like, I don’t know, some kind of assurance to say that there’s definitely, like, something between us? Maybe? God, I’m sorry, I’m just—“ She stops when he laughs at her and squeezes at her waist. She pouts at him, trying to hide the now gnawing anxiety inside her chest because she just _had_  to open her mouth. “Don’t laugh at me."

“I’m laughing because you’re adorable,” he assures her. He pauses, taking a moment to kiss her again, to watch as her lashes flutter across her cheeks. “And, I mean, yeah. I’d definitely like to be a thing."

Hinata’s light eyes twinkle with a delight she’s not quite sure she’s ever known. “Really?"

He grins and sits up, pulling her with him. “Yeah,” he says, tracing over her cheekbones. “Because you’re funny, and adorable, and absolutely gorgeous. I mean, you _do_  go to nerd school, but I think I can look past that because you’re so damn cool.” He waits for a moment, and she watches, mesmerized as his eyes twinkle with his grin. His eyebrow piercing shines in the light of the tv, and she’s fucking absolutely, totally head over heels. “Besides, _girlfriend_  has a really nice ring to it."

Oh, yeah, she was completely taken by him. 

* * *

 

 **to: Ino  
** _I have to sit out with you when Single Ladies comes on at weddings now._  

**from: Ino _  
_**_OH MY GOD. YES._

* * *

“Honestly, Sasuke, I’m fucked." 

Naruto had driven her home about twenty minutes ago, just after it hit midnight. She was tired, she had work tomorrow and so did he. But they didn’t want to part until they had to, sharing sweet kisses even up until right before she hopped out of the front seat. Even now, he felt like he was detached because she wasn’t with him. 

“How fucked?"

“I dropped her off twenty minutes ago and the moment I got home I started texting her. And all I keep imagining is us kissing on the couch, and the way she smiles, and the fucking adorable way she asked if we were ‘a thing.’ Literally, she’s consuming a hundred percent of my thoughts."

“Dude."

“Yeah,” he says, exasperated. He runs a hand through his hair, ruining his perfect faux hawk tousle. But he doesn’t exactly care about that right now. “I’m worried I’m gonna get her hurt."

“You just have to have faith in your ability to protect her from all of this."

“I told you that about Sakura, now look at her! She’s in basic fucking training while she’s trying to get through med school.” 

“But you’re getting out,” Sasuke reassures him. “You’re making your way. If she doesn’t figure it out, and you pay everything, it has to go off without a hitch."

“But what if it doesn’t, man? What if they like…use her as fucking leverage or something?"

“If you’re this worried, then why did you get so attached?"

He has a point, Naruto begrudgingly guesses. They had always been taught not to get attached unless they were willing to let them into the life. Or, you know, willing to constantly deal with disappearing for however long they had to for whatever their job was at the time. They were taught to not get attached. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” he mutters, slumping into a chair. “She’s just so fucking perfect. I honestly couldn’t fucking stop myself."

Sasuke sighs. “I can’t help you, man. Just try to keep her safe. Keep her out of it."

“Yeah, and why don’t I get the ability to magically be able to kill my targets without leaving my house?"

“If you’re just going to sass me, I’m not gonna give you advice anymore."

Naruto sighs, and wrings his hands, wishing that they were holding Hinata’s. _His girlfriend’s._  

“Honestly, I’m fucked."

* * *

 

 **from** : **Neji  
** _We miss you, too._


	5. we'll have to wait and see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's been a small timeskip between the last chapter and this one. a month has passed and it's now late november/early december.

Watching her paint is like a religious experience. 

Hinata had a lot of work to finish, coming up at the beginning of reading week and all, and she had a final portfolio for her painting class that was due and she still needed a few more pieces until she could complete it. She liked to paint mostly as a break from the rest of her homework and studying, because it calmed her and gave her somewhat of a break. Even though she was also technically doing work. 

But they wanted to spend time together. Which was, admittedly, difficult. Naruto had work, and she had class _and_  work _and_  homework  _and_ the rest of this bullshit. They took what time they had, whether it was between classes or on his lunch breaks. He had the day off, though, and he wanted to spend all day with her. 

She took him to her studio. It wasn’t anything special, and it wasn’t explicitly _hers_  — it was just a room near downtown that overlooked the city, on the fourth floor of some larger business complex. She could rent out the room per hour, for a pretty decent rate. Paint covered the peeling vinyl floor, and the walls were dirty and bare. But she could set up her easel and listen to music and paint whatever she wanted, in peace, where no one could disturb her. She could curl up on a ratty, but comfortable couch while she waited for her layers to dry and watch the snow flurry through the streets. 

Indie music fills up the room, the soft strumming of guitars spreading a soft ambience throughout the room. She hums happily, pulling up her hair and setting her brushes in place. It’s methodical, he notices. It’s a routine, something that is simply muscle memory, a learned pattern. It’s like how he sets up his station, he realizes with a smile. 

Watching her is like watching someone in a trance. Her entire focus in on the canvas in front of her, and while she paints the only thing on her mind is which brush to use and what color is next. He watches as the tension releases from her shoulders, her back, her hips. Sometimes, she sings along to the music, when she can pay attention to the words. Her voice is like a wind chime tinkling and echoing through the room, a high, but melodic murmur. A faint smile plays on her lips as a bright yellow is splayed onto the canvas, eyes softening as she blends paints together. Her dainty hands hold the brush with a comfortable familiarity that can only come with practice; it is as if the brushes are simply extensions of her hand. 

 _She doesn’t even know how beautiful she is_.

Naruto doesn’t know how many hours he spends watching her. But he watches. The sky fades from a deep blue to shades of violet, as the sun sets below the city skyline. He doesn’t need to pay attention to anything other than _her_. He is an artist, after all, though not “classically trained” like she was. But he could respect all art forms. 

And was she one hell of an art form. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, softly. 

His voice, though a low murmur, cuts through the otherwise peaceful silence. Hinata turns her head to him, a bit dazed for a moment. Trying to process what he’s said, for sure. Slowly, a smile unfurls on her lips, sweet and gentle. Just like her. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

Her words are delicate, sincere. He knows that it’s intimate, to share something as personal an experience as this was — watching an artist make art. Watching a person do what they love most. He knows that it means a lot for her to share this with him, as it was not only her special place, her special ritual, but he also got to see her vulnerable. 

That’s what it is, really. Vulnerability. Most people see vulnerability as being a crying, shaking mess; that vulnerability is letting someone hold them through their tears. But he knows that what she has shared with him is what vulnerability _really_  is. Being totally at ease, safe, calm. That’s what she is, in her element. He thinks it’s wonderful, too. Vulnerability is also usually seen as a bad thing, which Naruto also disagrees with, on some level. It means ultimate trust. Maybe one day, he could show her his vulnerability.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs.

But then again, maybe he already did.

* * *

 

Finals were literally going to be the death of her. 

Her desk is literally covered in biology diagrams and flashcards, and every available space on the walls in her bedrooms had paintings leaning up against them. The paintings had even scattered their way into the living room, leaning against the couch and the tv stand. Her animation storyboards and sketches cluttered the dining room table, where Hinata was currently trying to finish her last ten frames for her animation final project. Her hair was pulled up into a sloppy bun, and her bangs were kept out of her face with a headband, though they stuck up and out everywhere. Dark circles lined her eyes, as she tiredly rubbed at them. 

How long had she been staring at her computer screen? Six hours? Or eight?

“Hinata, honey,” Ino says, rubbing at her back. “You’ve been up since like six. You got like four hours of sleep last night. You haven’t eaten all day!"

“No time,” she mumbles, tiredly coloring in her protagonist’s skin color. “Too much due."

“How many frames do you have left?” Ino presses, pulling the tablet pen out of her friend’s hand. 

“Ten,” Hinata replies, easily letting it go and resting her head on her folded arms. Her eyes close of their own accord — they hurt from not only staring at the computer screen all day, but also from her exhaustion. She’s pretty sure that once finals were over, she was going to sleep for three days straight. 

“You can take a break,” Ino says, pushing Hinata’s cell phone toward her. “Text the boy. See if he can get lunch."

“That sounds nice."

With the crunch time of Reading Week and Finals soon approaching, it had been hard for them to spend time together. He had to work all day, usually, and after they closed up shop, it was either usually too late ( _especially_  on weekends, when they closed up shop at midnight or later) or she still had homework and couldn’t afford to waste any time. They had been spending a lot of time together at work — she would come to his tattoo shop and work on her animation project while he tattooed, or he would come over and hang out with her while she painted. They found every minute possible to spend together when they could spare it.

She relishes the time they spent before finals, when she could just lay in his arms and kiss him for hours. When she wasn’t obsessively worried about finishing all of her projects that she procrastinated on.  She couldn’t wait for finals to be over and be able to just hang out with him all day every day for a month straight.

But she still had two weeks to get through. Right. 

 _Art block sure gets fixed quick when you have a deadline_ , she thinks bitterly. 

She dials Naruto’s number without moving her head, still resting it on the cold surface of the dining room table. She knows to call him when he’s at work — he can’t text back very well if he’s already got gloves on, or if he’s setting something up. It’s always easier for him to multi-task if she just calls him, which is just fine with her. She loves hearing his voice.

“Hey, babe!” he greets enthusiastically. 

“Hey,” she says weakly.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is worried, immediately. She thinks it’s kinda cute. 

“I’m fine, just tired. Hey, I need a break from staring at Photoshop. Are you good for lunch?"

“I’m actually prepping for a tatt right now and then I have my lunch break,” he replies, and she can hear the seran wrap snapping in the background. “Shouldn’t take more than a half-hour. That work for you?"

“Perfect,” she replies. “Can I bring some stuff over to paint?"

“Of course, babe.” She loves it when he calls her that. Makes her heart pound and brings a smile to her face. “Your eyes hurt, huh?"

“Mmmhmm."

“Where do you wanna go?"

“Anywhere. I haven’t eaten since… When did we go to dinner last night?” She laughs nervously.

“Hinata!” Naruto admonishes. “C’mon, you gotta take better care of yourself."

“I have to get all A’s though,” she groans. “That means little time for food or sleep."

“How are you gonna get all A’s if you’re starving and exhausted?"

“The sheer power of will?"

He laughs. “I’m sure. I gotta let you go, I’ll see you in a bit, ‘kay?"

“'Kay. Bye."

Hinata pulls herself out of her chair to start gathering up her supplies. Quickly, she saves her Photoshop files and closes her laptop, leaving it  to come back to it later. Hopefully, much later. It was a Saturday and she was already spending all day working. She grabs her large canvas bag and places a few small canvases in there, along with her fold up easel. It was kind of a piece of shit, but it worked well for her on the go projects. She throws a couple more tubes of paint in the bag and her usual set of brushes, and looks dejectedly at her worn, messy palette. 

 _I need a new one_ , she thinks, trying to scrape off the huge layers of paint that had accumulated on the plastic. No luck. 

“I’m headed out to lunch, guys,” she announces as she opens the door. “Anybody need anything?"

“I think we’re fine,” Shino replies. “You should try eating a home cooked meal soon, though. Might be good for you."

“Tonight?” she tries. “I promise I'll stay home for dinner tonight. Plus, that way I could work on a project while I eat…"

“Get out,” Kiba deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, you’ll kill yourself at this rate."

“I can sleep when it’s over!” she calls, hopping down the stairs as the front door swung close behind her. 

Hinata shivers as she steps out onto the hard sidewalk. Snow coats the tops of buildings and piles itself up on the side of the roads and the sidewalks. Nothing seems to keep her warm these days, despite the three layers she usually wears. The December snow was tough, especially with the ten degree windchill. She walks fast to keep herself warm, though it doesn’t do much. 

Also, there’s the part where she slips on ice trying to cross the street. 

She hisses but gets up to limp to the sidewalk as soon as possible. Of course, the sides of the road always freeze overnight with all the snow that melts, piled up on the sides. With a huff, she pulls open the door to  _Sun and Moon_ , and blushes. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she mumbles, setting down her bag inside the counter island they have. 

“It get funnier every time,” Sakura grins. “You’re okay though, right? Didn’t hit your head?"

“No, I don’t think so,” Hinata sighs. “I’ll have a hell of a bruise on my hip, though."

They talk, as per usual when Hinata was waiting to go out with Naruto. It’s nice to catch up with her, too, since she actually went back to their home town and could relay her information. It was refreshing, somewhat, to know what was happening back home. 

“Hanabi’s doing good, I hear,” Sakura says, idly typing in dates from their appointment book. “She’s top of their class right now. Also, I heard she’s kicking all boy’s asses that come to the dojo."

“Of course she is,” Hinata says, beaming. She loves her sister with all her heart, and while it hurt to know that she couldn’t directly see her or communicate with her, she relished every piece of information she was told. Her sister was smart, and strong. She would survive that insane town a lot better than she did. 

They continue chatting as Naruto comes out to ring a customer up for a care kit — a nervous looking teen, probably just turned eighteen and rebelling against her parents. Cloth covers her wrist and Hinata can see the purple streaks of wiped away ink up her pale arm. It isn’t until she walks out that Naruto properly greets her. 

“Hey, babe.” Naruto wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in for a quick kiss that still leaves her smiling like an idiot and humming happily. “Hungry?"

“Starving,” she says. Ever since she left the house, her nausea had slowly grown into ravaging hunger. At this point, she would probably eat anything. “What are we getting?"

“Sasuke’s on a Chipotle run,” he explains. “Bring your stuff up, we can eat and chill in my office."

“Sounds good,” she says, giving him a sly smile from under lashes. 

Mostly because it meant making out, which is a thing they did quite often and found quite enjoyable. He loves the way she always gets so flustered and she loves how carried away he gets — it makes her feel attractive and loved and that was a very nice feeling. 

She practically falls into his arms as they laugh and stumble through the door of his office. She shushes him as they fumble to shut the door quietly behind them. Hinata drops her art bag at the side of the couch, which is lush and cushy. Naruto had told her once that sometimes he had slept here when he was working late enough and was just too tired to drive home to the other side of town. 

She giggles against his lips as they kiss, and she pulls him to the couch with her by the front of his shirt. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she feels him settle on top of her, warm and heavy and flirty. Naruto hums against her lips, trailing kisses down her jaw to her neck, kissing at the pale flesh there. He knows that her neck is her sweet spot now, and he takes any chance he can to get at it. Which usually meant a lot of scarves and makeup for her. She's fine with it though, letting out a soft exhale as he bites gently. Her pulse pounds against his lips as she bites her lip through a fluttery moan and takes to snaking her hands up his shirt. 

"Y'sure like my chest, babe," he murmurs, hot in her ear. "I thought you were an ass woman?" 

"I am," she laughs, pushing him back so she can hover over him. They share a long kiss, teeth clinking together as she bites his lip, a long and drawn out action. Hinata looks down at him with a smirk, trailing the lines of ink across his collarbone. "But your tattoos are my _favorite."_

"Yeah?" he says, breathlessly. "Y'like 'em that much?"

"Mmhmm.” She pushes up his shirt to touch more of his tattoos, red and gold spiraling across his chest. Her fingers linger across his chest, trailing over his abdomen with the lightest of touches. At his shiver, she smiles and leans to kiss him. 

He kisses her hard, one hand entangling in her hair and the other one gripping hard at her waist. 

"I'd love to give you one right here," he says, his voice low and heady. He rubs a callused thumb over the smooth expanse of skin next to her hipbone, and its such a shock that Hinata jumps a little. "And then I could touch it and kiss it and I would know that it was _mine._ " 

Naruto used to get scared when she'd jump like that. It'd only taken a few times for her to explain that he stopped worrying, and started taking notes. The spots that made her jump were a little sensitive, she had explained, but just because she wasn't used to it didn't mean she didn't like it. That was how he figured out she liked neck kissing so damn much. 

Hinata struggles for words to come out of her mouth, but all of it is gibberish trying not to come out as a moan. 

Okay, so she'd admit it: she wanted him, bad. Like, ultra mega super duper bad. They hadn't had sex yet, mostly because they were so _busy._ She was stressed as all hell with finals, and that was a double edged sword all on its own. It meant that not only did she _really_  want to have sex to get rid of the stress, but she _really_  did not have time to get caught up in the revelation of what sex with Naruto was probably like. 

"Unless you want me to jump you right here," Hinata murmurs in his ear, breathy as she trails her nails at his shoulders in the way she always knows can make him shiver, "I think we need to stop." 

Naruto actually looks like he's considering it. 

"Hey, Chipotle's downstairs," Sasuke's voice calls through the door with a knock that startles them both. "Feel free to come down whenever you're not fucking." 

Naruto huffs and Hinata nervously giggles, fumbling as she rolls off of her boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. The word is still new in her mouth, leaves her with a pleasant taste. She likes saying it to herself and holding his hand and wrapping herself around him and listening to his heart beat when he holds her. Honestly, she loves being his girlfriend just as much as she likes thinking about the fact that he's her boyfriend. 

They share another laughing kiss as they get up to head downstairs. On another day, they might have finished what they started. But Naruto knows he won't get another break for hours, and Hinata's stomach is officially yelling at her.

Food first, possible sexy times later. 

She doesn't really mind, getting interrupting or deciding that it needed to stop. They had only been together for a few months, after all. They had plenty of time to explore each other when they weren't working their asses off. They had decided together that they didn't want to rush it, but they also didn't want to save it for some special occasion. They would just let it come as it may. 

* * *

 

They were testing his patience. 

Constantly sending cronies to his _place of business_  to pick up his payments, constantly calling him at all times of the night, and sending him on a wild goose chase every other month. He hadn’t missed Hinata’s critical, curious glance when he had entered his office with Yamato in tow. The way they had to whisper in the hallway, the way he was sent a careful stare. 

“You be careful with her,” Yamato had said. “Wouldn’t want to get her hurt."

It was getting fucking _ridiculous._

“I’m sick of this shit, Tsunade,” he growls into the cell. “You’re threatening my shop by sending them there all the time."

“Yeah, yeah, brat. It’s noted.” Her voice is sarcastic, consonants blending together just enough for Naruto to know she was drunk. “Look, you can be mad all you want. But you asked for this. You wanted out. I’m being generous, aren’t I?"

He couldn’t argue with her there. If he was anyone else, the only way out would be death or disappearing off the face of the Earth. She _was_  being extremely generous, but it’s only because she knows he would never betray them. They were his family, and although he was leaving the life, he would never turn his back on them. Never stab them in the back. That was the only reason he was even allowed to leave, to just “pay his debts” and be on his merry way. 

In his heart, he knows it’s probably never gonna end. 

“Just — can you make it a little less conspicuous?” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. 

“What? So your _girlfriend_  doesn’t figure it out?"

Naruto freezes.

“W-Where did you — who did you…"

His heart pounds in his chest as Tsunade laughs. He can see her throwing her head back, blonde hair mussing itself as she slams down her glass of sake. His chest hurts, tight and even in his huge condo he feels like he can barely breathe. He slumps down into his sofa as she continues to chuckle. 

“You think I didn’t know, brat?” He can see the smirk grow on her face. “C’mon, kid. I know everything that goes on in my family. You think I wouldn’t know about her?"

“Don’t involve her.”

The words come out choked and he’s almost embarrassed to admit that his voice cracks. Thousands of images flash through his head, and it’s as if he watches Hinata die a thousand times over. His fists clench, palms sweaty as he takes a deep breath. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this vulnerable since—"

“Don’t say his name. Just. _Don’t_."

“I’m still just as upset about that as you are. You’re not the only one who cared for him, you know."

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Naruto takes a deep breath, pulling his equipment case from under his bed and flicking open the locks. “Look, just don’t involve her. She doesn’t deserve to get into all this bullshit."

“Can’t make any promises. If she figures it out…"

“I know,” he interrupts, words leaking out through gritted teeth. “Look, I know. Just. What did you want in the first place?"

“New hit,” she says, before pausing. Taking a drink, he’s sure. “You should already have the info on him. Number fifty-six. We’re finally getting close to the real deals, kid. Be careful out there."

He sighs. Another one out of town. Another long one. Another potentially life-threatening one. His pistol shines a sleek silver, tucked into its corner of his case. His sniper rifle sits, disassembled, ready for him to clean and arrange. He flips through more pictures, tossing some to the side to burn tonight. He finds the number he’s looking for and groans. 

“This guy is fucking crazy, Tsunade."

“You’ll have back-up, don’t worry. I’ve got Nara set to go with you. You’ll meet him at base by ten am on Monday to head out."

Naruto wrinkles his nose and sighs. The case closes with a heavy thud, as he clicks the latches back into place, shoving it back under his bed. Heavy photo paper flits in his hands as he scrapes them up off the hardwood floor. 

“Understood."

“Good. And Naruto?"

“Yeah?"

“Don’t fuck up. It could get bad. I don’t want to have to stitch you up again, you hear me?"

Naruto scoffs, tossing the pictures into the already-lit fireplace. Red ink bleeds into quickly morphing, disfiguring faces as they crinkle in the flames. The fireplace crackles and a log slowly splits as he stares, the dancing flames reflected in his eyes.

“I won’t."

He makes sure to watch them all turn to ash. 

* * *

 

 **to** : **hinata the sweetheart**  
 _hey, babe, bad news. gotta go on another business trip for your finals week. i’m sorry. :(_

**from: hinata the sweetheart**   
_Aw, it’s okay. You can’t really help it. It’s probably for the better anyway, this way I won’t have to worry about being distracted._

**to: hinata the sweetheart** _  
you sure?_

**from:** **hinata the sweetheart**   
_Of course. You focus on your work, I’ll focus on mine. We’ll have a great time when you get back and I’m done with finals._

**to: hinata the sweetheart  
** _sounds good, babe. can’t wait._


	6. i'm just looking for a way to escape

 “Hey, just calling to say I miss you.” Hinata rubs circles into the comforter of her bed, flopping over onto her stomach. “Can’t wait for you to come home. I’m all done with finals now. Shoot me a call or text when you can. Bye."

She hangs up, sighing as she drops her head into her arms. She’s tired, but her sheets are cold and all she wants is to cuddle up with her warm boyfriend. He's still out of town, though, and hasn’t texted her back in a day or so. Out of service, he had said. 

She spent the downtime catching up with her friends. Between frantically trying to get through finals and wanting to spend time with her newfound boyfriend, she had kind of left them in the dust. She understood a little better now why they had been missing her so much. 

She hadn't even realized how much she missed them. 

"What's up?" Ino asks, flopping down next to Hinata. 

The bed bounces under the blonde's sudden weight, her long hair splaying everywhere. Hinata sighs. 

"I just miiiiss him."

"Have you fucked him yet?" Ino questions, grinning when Hinata turns red and sputters. 

Everyone just loves making her flustered. Mostly, because it was really funny to watch her try to flounder for something to say. It was like watching a fish flop on the docks, struggling for water. Funny, but sad. 

"W-Well, I - God, no. N-Not yet." 

"But you _want_  to, right?" 

"Well, of course I _want_  to," Hinata mumbles. "Just haven't had time."

Ino grins at her again, and they laugh. Hinata had missed her, too. They had been friends since one of their 100 level English classes, and Ino had met Kiba through her. Being in a relationship kind of took up a lot of time from both of them, at least in the beginning. But now, they can hang out with all of them and leave to have their alone time later. 

Hinata gets it.

Kiba and Shino are off at work, so it was just them. With no finals or work to worry them, they get to goof off and laze around just like usual. It mostly involves chick flicks and talking about sex. 

 _Clueless_  plays on as they head to the living room, Hinata's head laying in Ino's lap. The blonde absentmindedly plays with her hair as they watch the movie. 

Part of Hinata always wonders if this is ok. She definitely isn't attracted to Ino in that way, mostly because they had been friends since the beginning and she wasn't going to change that. But a part of her is always worried Kiba's going to think something wrong. They had talked about it, once. 

"Look," he had said, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. "You guys are friends. And just because you're also into girls, and so is she, doesn't change shit. You guys are friends, and even if you guys suddenly did have a thing for each other, I trust that both of you would do the right thing." 

She had smiled and hugged her best friend. "Love you." 

"Love you, too, 'Nata." 

She had a similar conversation with Ino, but it had been different. There was the heteronormative suspicion that came with living with two boys, and Ino was simply interested. The two hadn't started dating yet, but the blonde had asked if there had ever been anything. 

"Oh, no no no," Hinata had said with an embarassed blush. "He's like my brother. Oh, no. Definitely not." 

Ino had asked him out the next day. 

"I missed this," the blonde says, never taking her eyes off the tv. "It's been so crazy, with school and our relationships. We needed some girl time." 

Hinata smiles at her, just as the blonde’s phone begins ringing. She rolls off Ino and howls at the goofy pop anthem that plays as her ringtone. Ino shoots her a look, though it doesn’t have much of an effect because she’s giggling.

“Hey, babe,” she answers, still laughing. 

“Does he know his ringtone is _Never Gonna Give You Up_?” Hinata yells, hoping Kiba heard. She continues cackling, holding her stomach as she nearly falls off the sofa. “Oh my God, Ino, I’m never gonna forget this."

Ino keeps laughing, a slight blush skirting on her cheeks, as she twirls a strand of her platinum hair. Hinata watches as her blue eyes twinkle in the flash of the tv and she bites her lip as she listens to her boyfriend on the phone. Her smile is slow to come, always is, but it’s real and true.

Hinata imagines that the two of them are the real deal. 

" _Okay_ , Macklemore." Hinata raises an eyebrow. Ino rolls her eyes and pulls always from the speaker. "He just keeps saying ' _what, what_ ' over and over."

Typical Kiba behavior. 

“Yeah, mmhmm,” Ino continues, making mouthing motions with her hands. “Yeah, no, we’re just hanging out. Okay, what do you want? You’ll have to pick up chicken for that. No, I won’t eat it with beef. Because I told you, I’m not used to eating as much red meat as you are and if I eat anymore this week it’ll make me sick. Kiba, don’t be an ass. Yeah. Uh-huh. Nope. Kay, love you, babe."

She taps her screen to hang up and rolls her eyes. That was the universal code for “I love him, but he’s such an idiot.” 

Hinata understood. Ino and Kiba had stupid little fights all the time, mostly because they were both so stubborn, and they refused to admit fault or defeat. She can’t count how many times they’ve fought over what to eat for dinner, who’s place they were spending the night at, or even where to spend a holiday dinner. 

Ugh. The holidays. Winter break meant the biggest holiday of all — that she would be completely alone for. They always spent Thanksgiving together, or she usually was invited to either Kiba or Shino’s family Thanksgiving. But Christmas was different.

She had always been taught that Christmas was a strictly family holiday. Christmas should be celebrated with family, and maybe close friends, but _always_  family. Everyone always left for Christmas, and they exchanged gifts beforehand and left them each under their respective trees to open on Christmas morning. 

But she didn’t have a home to go back to.

“Hey, does curry sound good for dinner? Kiba’s gonna pick up chicken."

“That’s fine."

She refuses to intrude upon anyone else’s family, either. 

It’s fine, she supposes. She gets extra pay because she usually is the only one who can keep the shop open, working Christmas. She gets some peace and quiet, in the house that is usually loud and boisterous and full of life. 

She gets to talk to her mother a lot, locked up in the house all on her own. Which she needs. She wishes she still had her mother, still had some guidance. She wishes she could talk to her father, make up with him, but she knows he is too stubborn to ever apologize and she refuses to. 

As she begins chopping up vegetables to sauté for a side-dish, deciding to forget thinking about being alone, her phone buzzes and rings in her pocket. She recognizes the ringtone and gives Ino a smile as she slides to answer and holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. 

“Hey!” she answers enthusiastically. 

“Hey, babe!” His voice crackles in the way it always does while he’s driving. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you. Busy days, you know how it is."

“Of course, of course."

She doesn’t. Wait — hadn’t he said he had been out of service?

“So, uh, what are you doing right now? I should be home in about a half-hour, d’ya wanna grab dinner?"

“Oh, I’m actually making dinner right now.” Her voice is disappointed for a moment, before she gets a brilliant idea. “Hey, what if you came over?"

“Isn’t everyone else there?” Hinata thinks that the apprehension in his voice is just from nervousness.

“Well, yeah,” she says, tossing the chopped-up peppers into a bowl in front of her. “But that’s the point. You could have dinner with all of us, we have our weekly tv night, and we could go hang out in my room for a while. You could even sleep over if you wanted."

They were at that point, surely. They needed to meet each others friends and hell, she already knew his. Ok, maybe she didn't know Sasuke too well, but she's sure that she will in time. 

“Ooh la la,” Ino whispers, bumping her hip. “Sleep over, huh? Won’t do much sleeping, will you?"

Hinata silently shushes her friend, but responds with a smile and a wink. Ino positively squeals at that — “Hinata, winking at me!"

“That sounds great!” Naruto says, and her chest fills with warmth. “I bet your cooking is absolutely delicious."

“Oh, you.” She giggles into the phone and almost takes her finger off. “Oh, shoot—"

“What?"

“Oh, nearly just cut myself. Look, I have to go or I’ll have one less finger by the time you get here. Text me when you’re close, okay?"

“You got it."

“And Naruto?"

“Yes, my darling?” 

Her heart flutters for sure at that one. She knows Ino is watching as a horrendous smile stretches itself across her face. It makes her cheeks hurt. 

“I’m glad you called,” she says, softly. “I missed you."

“I missed you, too,” he replies. “I’m gonna give you a big kiss when I see you, yeah?"

“We might have to take that to my room,” she giggles, and swats at Ino as she makes loud catcalls. Naruto can obviously hear them on the other end, because he starts laughing. “Sorry. Ino’s making fun of me."

“I’ll let you go,” he says. “See you in a bit, babe."

“Kay, bye."

She slides her phone into her pocket and hums happily as she continues chopping up vegetables. Every nerve was on edge, excited to be able to see him again, touch him again, kiss him again. Even just hearing his voice after a few days without was such a relief to her. 

Besides, now that she wasn’t stressing out about finals, she had time for other things. Other things that involved kissing him and maybe some other things that involved a lot less clothes. 

Okay, she could think about that later. 

Kiba gets in with the chicken and Hinata gets to work on cooking it. It was the girls’ night to cook, and she knew just how tiring it was to get home from work and still have to cook dinner. Besides, the system worked very evenly. Whoever didn’t cook, did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Fair was only fair. 

Despite the fact that Naruto had been over quite a bit in the rush before finals, he hadn’t really gotten to meet any of her friends/roommates. They were always either working, or in such a rush to do their own studying that they had never really met aside from rushed pleasantries.

The doorbell rings and Hinata hands the spatula over to Ino to answer the door. She pushes Kiba back into his seat with a look. 

The look mostly reads “If you even look the wrong way, I will murder you” but, you know. There was some room for creative interpretation. 

“Hey!” she says with a bright smile as she opens the door. Looking at his grinning face is a relief in and of itself. His skin is warm as he pulls her to him to kiss her. She knows that everyone else is watching but she can’t help but kiss him back, turning to the catcalls of her friends with a goofy smile she can’t shake off. 

Touching him is literally a breath of fresh air. Their fingers interlock and she squeezes his hand and everything is just so okay again. Despite the strong aroma of their current concoction in the kitchen, she feels like she’s enveloped in his scent. It’s so comforting to her that she could melt on the spot. 

“It smells good in here,” he says with a kiss to the cheek. “What’s for dinner?"

“Curry chicken with stir fry veggies!” Ino calls from the kitchen. “I got it from here though, if you guys wanna go ahead and get ready for dinner."

Hinata doesn’t miss the subtle (aka _not subtle at all_ ) wink from the blonde across the kitchen counter, nor how Naruto gives a thick smirk. She definitely doesn’t miss Kiba’s careful glare, either. She rushes her boyfriend into her bedroom, shutting the door right behind her. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, covering her face with her hands. “They’re just not used to me dating anybody and they love teasing me."

He gently pulls her hands away from her face and holds them in his own. She peeks an eye open at him to see him grinning at her, and she can’t help but let a smile form on her lips. 

“You’re really adorable,” she says, letting herself be pulled along with him.

He sits on the edge of her bed and she swings her legs over either side of him and just hugs him. Her hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, her nose buried in his neck. He smells like deep, earthy goodness — but that smell is there again. It’s sharp, tangy, and while it doesn’t throw off the complete relaxation she gets from being this close to him, it doesn’t seem right. It’s definitely not _him_. 

She’ll ask later. She’s just thankful to be here with him, to feel the heat come off his skin and look at his dark hands over her pale skin. They just stay there for a minute, appreciate the simple silence and _breathe_. 

“I missed you,” she says quietly. 

Hinata is afraid she’s putting too much into this far too quickly. She’s afraid her sentiments aren’t at all received the same. 

But then he wraps his arms tight around her and whispers, “Me, too."

* * *

 

Dinner goes just about as expected.  

Naruto and Kiba get along in a strange way. They definitely seem hostile towards each other, but the snarky remarks are always met with laughs and playful glares. Hinata doesn’t worry about it much — it definitely works with their overall dynamic, especially when Shino jumps in too. She can tell they all like each other, though, and that her roommates approve of Naruto even if they bump elbows and fight about it as they wash dishes. 

Ino and Hinata are curled up together on the couch as the boys wash dishes and clean up the mess from dinner. Ino is flipping through channels idly to find something to watch for tv night, while Hinata slyly watches the boys through the little window in the kitchenette. 

“They’re fine,” the blonde reassures her. “You don’t have to go hawk mama."

“I know,” she replies. “I just…I like watching them get along. It makes me happy. To know my boys are all happy."

There is a silence, and Hinata turns to see what the problem is. Ino is looking at her with a smile and teary eyes. “Awww, Hinata! That is so cute!"

She blushes and shushes Ino by pulling the blonde to her in a hug. “Why are you tearing up? Oh my god, _Ino_."

“You two are literally just so cute,” she whispers, dabbing at her eyes. “I’m just so happy you’re happy and oh my god, I’m sorry I’m so emotional…"

Hinata fights back a little bit of tears, too, but they laugh it off and pretend to the boys like they’re laughing at some private joke. She knows where Ino is coming from — she had confessed to the blonde just as much. It was hard to not have that kind of close, intimate love in her life after she was kicked out.

She loves her boys and Ino as much as her own family, but she misses being able to hug her sister for hours. Having that kind of peaceful, close bond with someone else — and she couldn’t really do that with her boys. Kiba’s hugs are short but tight, and Shino doesn’t like much physical contact.

Hinata is grateful to have this kind of closeness now, and so happy that her boyfriend gets along with her boys. 

“So,” Naruto says, plopping down on the couch on the other side of her,  “what do we got for tv?"

His arm curls around her and she sidles into his side and it’s like nothing else for Hinata. A warm smile stretches across her face and she watches as Ino’s eyes glimmer at her. Happy for her, she knows.

“Fucking nothing,” Ino says, getting up to relax with her boyfriend on the loveseat. “Why do you guys even pay for cable, honestly?"

“Because we’re too broke to afford a good tv?” Kiba replies. “We could hook the Playstation up with Netflix but it would be shit quality without the HDMI hookup. This piece of shit only has AV plug ins."

“Why don’t you just put _your_  tv in the living room, babe?” 

“Because it’s small and mine. For gaming. I don’t wanna bother everyone when they’re trying to study or do whatever and I’m trying to get my game on."

“That’s a bullshit excuse."

“Y’know, I have an extra tv,” Naruto says, breaking through Kiba and Ino’s banter. “It’s not too big, it’s only twenty-eight inches, but it’s an LCD. I put it in my room for the same purpose, but my roommate moved out and I really only use the one in the living room now."

“Are you sure?” Hinata says, squeezing his arm. “I mean, tv’s are expensive.” 

He shrugs. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t use it anyway, and I’m pretty sure I got in on sale. Besides, if I really wanted another tv in my room I could just buy one. I’ll bring it over the next time I’m here."

Kiba takes no time in accepting the offer. “Alright, good to know Hinata officially has a sugar daddy. God bless the body mod industry."

She throws a pillow at him. 

* * *

 

“You know I don’t think you’re my… _sugar daddy_ , right?” Hinata laughs, curling up with Naruto in her bed. 

He had decided to sleep over, and she was a little disappointed to see that he indeed had a shirt on to sleep, even though it was the middle of winter. Admittedly, she decided to wear thin faux-flannel pants to bed for some of the same purpose. She plays with the edges of his tattoos on a bicep while one of his warm hands settles on her waist. 

“Of course not,” he says, tapping her nose. “The tv thing was just a genuine offer. You’re too innocent to be looking for a sugar daddy."

She looks up at him with a scandalized look. “I’m too _innocent_?"

He grins at her, and gives her waist a slow, heavy squeeze. “C’mon, babe. You’re shy and sweet and adorable. Girls like you don’t go looking for sugar daddies."

“So you’re saying I can’t be sexy?"

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he says, a low, husky murmur in her ear that leaves a shiver running down her spine. “You are _very_  sexy. Just. I don’t see you initiating the sexy stuff, babe. I see you blushing and clutching at sheets and — W-Well, I’m getting kinda ahead of myself."

Okay, so she’s totally blushing. But it doesn’t matter that he’s totally thought about them like that, she has a point to prove. 

She reaches up and pulls him into a kiss, hands mussing his already messy hair. A hand squeezes at his bicep, tough and tense as he kisses her back. His tongue sweeps across her lips and she smiles, turning over to straddle him and pull away from his lips. Their eyes lock in a heated stare, even as he reaches to pull all of her long hair to one side. 

“You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted you like this,” she whispers. 

She pulls his head back, pressing her nails into his scalp and mouth along his jaw. He gives a strangled, muffled moan, and she grins. She starts to pull up his shirt, to kiss at his tattoos and maybe venture a little farther South, when something stops her dead in her tracks. It’s dark in her room, but she can still see — and feel — a puckered, angry scab. She can see the small black stickers of stitches that poke out of the wound, maybe three inches long. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, wincing as she gingerly touches it. “Don’t touch it, please."

“What happened?” she says, leaning back farther to look at it. “How did you get this?"

“Uh — Well. Um, alright, I was kinda embarrassed to admit it and I didn’t actually think we would be anywhere in— uh, this position. I…uh, I was in a bar fight."

“A bar fight.”

Something in her told her this was absolute bullshit, but she couldn’t think of a good reason for him to lie to her. Besides, what exactly could he be doing behind her back that would give him an injury like this?

“Yeah. I mean, he got arrested and they took me to the hospital and stuff. But this guy was being a drunk asshole to some smaller kids there and I figured I could. You know. Help ‘em out."

“And he? What? Stabbed you?"

“Yeah. That’s what happened."

“Uh huh. W—Why didn’t you tell me? Oh my God…"

“Because you would have freaked out, and I’m fine, love,” he says, brushing her hair out of her face. “I didn’t need you worrying about something that’s totally fine."

The way he called her _love_  doesn’t go unnoticed. “Well, I’m going to worry anyway. You have to tell me these things, okay? I mean, if I got majorly injured, wouldn’t you worry?"

“Well, of course I would!” Realization floods his eyes. “I. Sorry. I was just never raised to be worried about my own injures."

“I’m here now to worry about you,” she says, eyes soft. 

There’s a silence. 

“So, I guess I ruined the moment with my little surprise,” Naruto says, shifting a little uncomfortably under her. She can’t tell whether it’s because she’s putting pressure on his stitches or if he has a boner. 

She laughs, anyhow. “I mean, a little. I would feel really worried I was gonna pop your stitches or something."

“I’m not,” he says, rubbing his thumbs at the soft spot right by her hips, the ones he wants to tattoo. Yeah, that’s definitely a boner. 

“Let’s just go to bed,” she says. “I just — I don’t know. I feel like it would feel kinda like we were forcing it or something. Just. A little awkward?"

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he replies. “I’m just gonna — ah, go to the bathroom."

He gets up as she settles back in her side of the bed, and just as he’s about to step into the hall, she quietly calls out with a flushed smile, “Tissues are to the left, under the bathroom sink."

“Thanks,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

So she’s a little sad it couldn’t happen then, but it never fails to know she can get her boyfriend all hot and bothered. 

* * *

 

It is midnight and she stares at the moon from her spot on the bed. Naruto is sound asleep behind her, snoring lightly, arm wrapped loosely around her waist. Her gentle hand holds his, idly rubbing circles into his palm. It doesn’t seem to wake him, despite that he’s a light sleeper.  

She hums softly the tune she remembers her mother singing to her, on nights just like this when the light of the moon keeps her awake. A light harmony into a soft overture, the sound of a waltz made into a lullaby. She was barely eight when her mother died, but she remembers the gentle touch of her mother’s hands on her own. 

If there was one thing Hinata missed about home, aside from her family, it would have to be fighting. 

It was therapeutic, in a way. She was always the shy, timid little girl with no backbone, no spirit. But fighting gave her a healthy outlet, to channel her emotions. The only way to truly be at peace was to practice both tranquility and chaos.

That was what her father always told her. 

She doesn’t have much of an outlet like that now, besides painting. Which was important in it’s own way, but it was more tranquil. She hasn’t had a good, angry painting session since weeks ago. Her paintings from those sessions don’t really turn out very good either — her style was careful, planned, definitively articulate. 

There is something missing in her life right now. Which is a strange sentiment, considering she has amazing friends, a loving boyfriend, her own place and is doing well in school. Hinata doesn’t want to believe that it’s fighting that she needs in her life, but she won’t rule it out. Perhaps over winter break she would scout out some dojos or gyms that had self-defense classes. 

“Babe, wha’s wrong?” Naruto mumbles at her ear, kissing sloppily and sleepily at the base of her neck. 

“Nothing, honey,” she says, turning over to kiss him. He has a little bit of morning breath already. “Just can’t sleep."

“Can’t sl’p, huh?” he murmurs. His kisses are sloppy and ticklish as he trails down her neck, making her giggle lightly. Then he drags his teeth across the curve of her throat and her laugh turns into a breathy moan. “Well, we can definitely do somethin’ to tire y’out."

Her pale eyes flash at him as she pulls him on top of her. She was definitely fine with making out — and other things — in the middle of the night. She was very ready, and very willing to explore the more physical parts of their relationship. Especially since they had almost had a little moment earlier, and she could do was keep thinking about it. 

“Do your worst,” she says with a toothy smirk, lightly scratching her nails through the buzzed hair of his undercut. 

She laughs at the shiver he gives. He gives her a sharp look with a lopsided grin. “We’ll see how much longer you’ll be laughing."

Hinata doesn’t laugh for very long.

* * *

 

Naruto is still dead asleep at eight, but she’s up. Despite that she complains about her morning classes, she never sleeps past ten. Besides, the morning is tranquil, peaceful, beautiful. She starts up the coffee for everyone else, just like she usually does. 

As she waits for it to brew and curls up on the couch to watch out the window, she hears a door click softly. Ino pads lightly out to where she’s sitting, pulling her hair out of it’s frazzled braid. 

“You’re up early,” Hinata remarks. 

“I had to talk to you about last night,” the blonde replies, giving her the most shit-eating grin she’s ever seen. “So. What happened?"

Hinata goes from calm to heart racing in three seconds flat. “Um — I mean, uh, ah."

“Not like it matters, of course,” Ino says, shrugging. “We did hear _everything_  last night."

“… _Every_ thing?"

“You know, I’m surprised at how quiet you did keep, considering you haven’t been eaten out in what? Ever? Years? My first time —"

“ _Ino_!"


	7. this slope is treacherous

He had already dumped the body off at HQ, as proof. They would take care of it the same way they usually did — and what that was, he didn’t know. It was procedure to only know what you needed to know. As you rose through the ranks, of course, you learned more. But the only person who really understood the full functioning operation was whoever the boss was. Someone only ever becomes boss because the old one dies — they only learn through every factor of the family as if they were a newbie, and there’s supposedly a secret journal of all the secret factors the boss needs to know. 

But that was just a rumor, after all. 

As Naruto heaves the heavy rifle case back into the door of his condo, he realizes something is not right. His eyes narrow as he pulls a gun from the waistband of his pants.

He had thought something like this would happen. It was part of why he was so eager to sleep over at Hinata’s — he’s been too conspicuous, not careful enough. Just thinking about Hinata jumbles his brain, and that’s what he had been doing all week. 

It had been really hard to not reply to any of her texts. But he also knew he was dealing with a tech genius, and if he had sent any texts or calls, he could have been tracked. 

There is no one here. He can tell. His senses are so tuned that if someone so much as breathed a nervous whisper he would know. There is no strange creaking in the floorboards, but something is definitely not right. He tucks his pistol back into his pants, making sure to click the safety back into place, though his left hand hovers over the switchblade hooked onto his belt.

Naruto pushes one of his mom’s old, tacky dining chairs back into place. It was his father’s place at the table — a place that was never touched. He can’t remember the last time he or anyone else had even breathed a whisper close to that chair. 

Someone had been here. He was going to find out who.

* * *

 

“Bye, guys!” 

Hinata waves as Kiba, Ino, and Shino all pile into Kiba’s Jeep and head home for the Christmas holiday. Two weeks of being alone at the apartment, all by herself. As soon as she watches them turn the corner, headed for the freeway, she shuts the door and shivers. It was snowing again, and she hoped that it wouldn’t make things too bad for them driving back home. 

She wants to see Naruto, but she also doesn’t want to go out into the cold. She could have asked Kiba to drop her off, but the freeway was in the opposite direction, and trying to U-turn on these streets is annoying. Too small, too crowded. She wouldn’t have asked him. 

With a sigh, Hinata tosses a scarf around her neck and pulls on her boots. She’s going to bear the cold, mostly because she doesn’t particularly think she can be alone right now. She doesn’t know anybody else whose not home for the holidays, aside from, so far, Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke. Everyone else has already left or is too busy packing to do anything. 

She hates the fact that she is constantly left alone during the holidays, though she knows its nobody’s fault but probably her own. She hates that she is so desperate for attention in this time. She hates that she becomes so insecure, so desperate during the holidays. 

She tries to focus on the music in her ears as she desperately tucks her nose into her scarf. Her hands almost freeze over just trying to lock the front door of the apartment. Most of the shops watch her desperately from the windows as she passes by, hungry for customers. 

Hinata pulls the door to _Sun & Moon_ open with a weak grunt, opening the door just enough for her to slide through.

“Hey, girl,” Sakura says, leaning on the counter with a smile. “Didn’t expect you to be coming through today."

“Yeah,” she replies with a shivery huff. “I didn’t expect to either."

Hinata takes a minute to throw off her heavy winter clothes and tuck them inside the counter, just as she always does. Sakura turns to her computer, typing in some numbers off of a spreadsheet printed in front of her. 

“So, I’m going home in a couple days,” Sakura tells her, trying to make it seem offhanded. “Sasuke’s finally coming with me to meet my parents."

“That’s nice,” Hinata says. She doesn’t really know quite what else to say. “I hope it goes better than — well."

Sakura actually fumbles on the keyboard and blushes. “Anything will go better than that. Anyway, what I was getting at was if you wanted me to take anything to. Y’know. Your sister. Neji."

Hinata chokes up for a second, soundlessly. Her throat tightens but she doesn’t think anything runs across her face — she’s gotten particularly good at making it appear as though she’s fine. “I — Wow. I haven’t even thought about getting them anything. It’s been so long, you know."

“Of course,” Sakura quickly says, carefully setting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up."

“It’s okay,” she replies. “You were just trying to think about me and my family. I appreciate it."

“So nothing has changed since you left?"

A sigh. “Not even a letter. A phone call. You would think…” She has to stop herself for a moment, otherwise she thinks she might cry. “You would think he would at least want to see how I’m doing."

Sakura stops and makes a sad face, and begins to open her mouth when Naruto and a customer walk out of his work room. The tattoo isn’t visible today, so Hinata assumes its on his ribs, judging from the way the shorter man is favoring his left side and not breathing too deeply. 

"I wasn't expecting you," Naruto says with a grin as the door chimes and his customer leaves. He kisses her quickly and scoots behind the counter to deposit money in the lockbox. “I’ve already had my lunch break."

“I just wanted to hang out,” she replies with a sweet smile. “The boys already left and I got lonely."

“Aww,” Naruto says, giving her a grin that makes her heart simply melt. “You’re so damn cute. Do you wanna stay and watch me work or something?"

“Please,” Hinata says. “You know how fascinating I think it is."

She follows him into his workroom to watch him clean off the plastic wrap off his work chair before his next appointment. According to the schedule, he has a good half hour. 

“So they left for Christmas already?” he asks, pulling on his latex gloves and dropping them in the metal trashcan. “How long are they gone until?"

“January fifth, I think,” she says, wrapping her arms around Naruto’s neck. “I would just  _hate_ to be alone for all that time."

“Oh, I would hate for that too,” he murmurs in her ear, nibbling on her jawline just beneath it. “We couldn’t have that.” 

They kiss with a smirk and a fluttering step backwards, and before she knows it, Hinata is laying back on his tattooing chair trying to keep her mouth shut. She’s fairly positive she has a few hickies blossoming underneath the collar of her shirt, and her lips feel swollen. He’s kissing at her hips, right on that spot that he loves. 

“I just want to give you one right here,” he whispers, taking the soft skin gently between his teeth. “God, the urge just eats away at me."

She’s about to tell him to just do it. Right here. Right now. Fuck his other clients. She can’t resist him, his intoxicating grin kissing at her skin, got her all hot right on his tattooing chair. She wants to watch him tattoo her, sparkling eyes all focused and his strong, tan arms as they pull at her skin. She wants his handiwork on her body, forever, permanently —

A knock. “Hey, your two o’clock is here."

There is literally a thump as Naruto lets his head fall onto the warm leather. “Yeah, kay. I’ll be there in a second. Thanks."

How had they already spent a half hour making out? _How_? 

“You make me fucking crazy,” he whispers, pulling himself up to kiss her again. “I just can’t help myself around you."

Their lips nip at one another’s, soft but filled with desire.

“Likewise,” she breathes, a fluttering moan threatening to rise out of her chest. 

He stands and tries to adjust himself, but his boner is a little uncomfortable for him, she can see. He pulls out the plastic wrap and begins applying it to the chair, rubbing the back of his neck with a blush. 

“Would you go tell him that I’ll be right with him?” he mutters. “It’s just Lee, he knows how it goes."

“Of course,” she smiles, kissing his cheek. “You take care of yourself."

She gives him a grin as she slinks out the door, giggling to herself at his agape face as she shuts the door behind her. She gives Sakura a shy, but smug smile as she goes over to the man waiting in the lobby. 

"Hi, Naruto will be with you shortly," she tells him, shaking his hand. "He's just setting up his workspace."

He shakes her hand with a firm grip. His hair is dark and healthy, cut in a clean, but not very stylish bowl cut that is shaved underneath most of it. A half-finished tattoo trails down his arm. The outlines of a Japanese dragon curl across his bicep, as well as a small portion of shading, but his sleeve still has a long way to go. His eyes are large and a little intimidating to her, but his smile is soft. She knows Naruto wouldn’t make her talk to anyone who was sketchy. 

“Of course,” Lee replies, with a heavy accent. “Are you the girlfriend I have heard so much about?"

She blushes. “You’ve heard about me?"

He laughs, nodding vigorously. “Oh, you are all he talks about."

“It’s true,” Sakura chimes in, leaning over the countertop. “I hear him gab on and on about you through the door! I’m pretty sure his customers are damn near sick of him."

Hinata thinks about this for a moment, before breaking out into a huge, blushing grin, covering her face to hide it. “Oh my God, that’s literally the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Oh gosh. Um, anyway, nice to meet you, Lee!"

“And you as well,” he says. 

“Say, do you mind if I sit in for your tattoo?"

“Of course,” he answers with a bright grin. “I do not mind at all. He says you are an artist?"

“Yes! I specialize in acrylic paintings. But I like to do charcoal work every once in a while.” She looks to the ground and gives a goofy smile. “I particularly like sketching Naruto while he works."

They laugh for a little while longer before Naruto finally invites them back into his office. Him and Hinata share a knowing smile, and she pretends that his hand doesn’t brush very firmly against her butt as she slides by behind Lee. She quickly sets up her sketchbook as Naruto and Lee talk really quickly. 

Watching the process itself was interesting to Hinata. Although they already had the outline, Naruto sketches a quick designation of shading with a special pen on Lee’s skin. He makes sure that Lee is ok with what he plans to do, then pulls out the colors and checks that Lee is okay with all of the shades. 

Although Hinata realizes that getting a tattoo was a very personal experience, she’s not quite sure if she had realized that there was this much control involved. That if you didn’t like your sketch, you simply had your artist redo it or you went somewhere else. There was a very distinct reason you picked your artist — their styles, their coloring skills, their integrity for business. It was all a very complicated and interwoven community, as they both explained to her. 

Though they were explaining it, she was only catching the general picture. She is far too focused on watching Naruto. The way his eyebrows furrow just the slightest, the slightest bit of bite to the inside of his cheek, the glint of his sharp blue eyes. Then, there was the way he has one foot pitched straight on the floor, while the other one perches on its toes behind him, or the way one single vein in his left arm pops just enough to be visible as he pulls at Lee’s skin. 

“You’re smiling,” Naruto says, grinning at her and pulling off his gloves.

The tattoo isn’t finished yet, but the two of them are done for the day. She sees the way Naruto’s hands stretch at his knees, his telltale sign that they ache. Lee is wincing, physically resisting the urge to rub at the red skin. 

“Well, maybe I just really like watching you work,” she retorts with an even bigger smile.

It doesn’t take fairly long to get Lee all sorted out at the front desk. Naruto rings him up personally — she guesses he got a discount, although Naruto still gets paid a good three hundred dollars in cash. 

“You’ve got charcoal all over your face, babe,” Naruto says, grinning and giving her a wet kiss on her cheek. She giggles and pushes him off, rubbing at her cheek. 

She’s used to being dirty from paint and charcoal and clay. Its nothing new to her, really. They take his car back home, and he gets to park in Kiba’s usual spot. He parks with ease into the side street parking, used to it from all his days downtown. 

He gets settled in her room, while she goes to take a shower to wash the charcoal dust off of her. She doesn’t even know if she got it all off, but the steamy shower was enough to make her feel clean. Her hair is still wet as she walks back into her room in a sleep tank and a pair of his boxers that she might have stolen from the last time she was over. She stops with wide eyes when she sees that he’s staring at her. 

“What?” she asks, laughing nervously. “Do I still have charcoal dust on my face?"

“No,” he says so quietly, but with a fierce intensity. He takes slow, but long strides to cup at her face, to run his fingers through her wet hair. “You’re just so beautiful, I could eat you up."

She gives a gasp as he gives a hard bite to her neck and a firm squeeze to her ass. She moans as he continues on, clutching at his hair, tracing the lines on his neck that she knows by memory alone. They back up until she finds herself pressed against a wall. She’s finding it a little hard to stand with all the attention — his hot breath on her neck, the rhythmic grinding, his hands kneading at her soft flesh.

It was all so distracting. 

“Babe, I gotta lay down if you’re gonna do this,” she gasps finally, finding it in herself to form words. 

He pulls back immediately. “Shit, I’m sorry, is this ok? I didn’t ask, shit — "

“It’s fine,” she reassures him, giving him a deep kiss that gets him so close to her she could suffocate on his scent alone. “I’m just so overwhelmed I can’t stand. It’s all too much. A good too much."

Naruto hoists her legs around his waist and carries her over to the bed, crawling on top of her. She doesn’t complain when they both suddenly loose their shirts in the process, bare chests pressed against each other. 

“Besides,” she says in a breathy huff, giving him an uncharacteristic smirk, “isn’t it better we moved to the bed? I could think of a lot of…activities we could try out here."

He blinks, before grinning with that glint in his eyes. “Well, that could be arranged."

* * *

 

**to: Ino  
** _ohhhhhh myyyyy godddddd._

**to: Hinata**   
_what??? what happened!!!_

**to: Ino  
** _Is this what its like to be high because wow_

**to: Hinata**   
_…are you actually high?_ _what did you take??_

**to: Ino  
** _Some good, old-fashioned, really really hot sex_

**to: Hinata**   
_OH MY GOD. YAAAAAS. GIRL YES. I’M SO HAPPY OH MY GOD._

**to: Ino**   
_I have literally never felt better in my life, we’re laying here and he’s sleeping on my shoulder and snoring and drooling a little bit with his arm wrapped around my waist and we’re all sweaty still but HONESTLY. HONESTLY INO. This is the happiest I could ever be in my life._

**to** : **Hinata**  
 _girl you don’t even know i’m literally crying i’m so happy for you_

* * *

Naruto has already been up for hours, checking his phone some, but mostly just watching her sleep. The gentle curve of her back, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the perfect O her mouth forms as she sleeps. Her long eyelashes brush her cheeks, and the post-sex glow looks so good on her.

He hasn’t made a decision yet, on how to protect her. It was something he didn’t want to have to choose in the first place. But someone was in his home, and if this was going anywhere, it would mean she would get involved. He doesn’t know quite how to process that bit, yet.

He leans over, gently kissing the nape of her neck and slowly moving to her jaw. Hinata hums softly and cuddles further back into his warm chest. She turns her head to receive a soft, loving kiss. 

“Good morning,” she murmurs. “I could get used to this."

His heart squeezes in his chest, and he’s not sure whether it’s painful or relieving. 

“Mm, I already have,” he says. 

She smiles at him for a moment, before her soft look turns sad. “When do you leave for Christmas?"

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t."

“Don’t you have a godfather to see? Friends to spend it with?"

He shakes his head nonchalantly. “My godfather died a couple years ago. He was old, y’know. Nah, I got nobody else in my life but you, Sasuke, and Sakura."

“Oh,” she whispers softly. “Oh."

“What’s up, babe?” he asks, squeezing her hip, concerned.

She flips around to trace at his tattoos, not meeting his eyes. That’s her tell — she’s sad. But a small smile grows on her face anyhow.

“This will be the first Christmas I won’t be alone,” she whispers, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it. “Not since I left home."

It ignites something in him, to where he sits up and pulls her with him. With a soft hand at her neck and her cheek, he kisses her, full of his love and tenderness. Their noses touch, foreheads pressed together. 

“You will never have to be alone again,” he whispers. “Never, ever again. I promise you that."

It seems he’s made his decision. 


	8. leave me your stardust to remember you by

Winter break had gone by far too quickly. 

In fact, school started in only another week, and Ino was particularly distressed about the fact that she had gone an entire month on break and _hadn’t_  gone shopping yet. It was truly a travesty. 

“Well, let’s just go shopping,” Hinata says, tired of Ino’s pacing and ranting. “I have some money I could spend on some new clothes, and besides, I need to get supplies for the new semester anyway…"

“Ugh, Hinata!” Ino whines. “You ruin any shopping trip by mentioning school…"

“Look, we get to shop until  _you_  drop, as long as we stop by my art supply store.” Hinata gives her friend a look. “Isn’t that fair?"

A huff. “I _guess_.” 

Winter break had been quite a whirlwind for Hinata. It started off with loving the relentless affection and time she spent with Naruto, to more of his mysterious disappearances. Business trips where his reasons from one to the next day were always different. She was suspicious, but there were so many reasons she could be suspicious she couldn’t choose which one. For now, she had decided it was best to trust in him. 

She had done an awful lot of paintings in her down time. Sometimes of sunflowers set under a bright blue sky, or of pink toned abstracts that could definitely be seen as a symbolic representation of sex. 

And she has one sketch, hidden deep in an old, battered journal, of what she imagines it looks like when they’re _actually_  fucking— beautiful and all stretched out. Perhaps she’ll paint that one day. 

It doesn't take long for both of them to get ready, just a check of the bank account and a pull of boots into their feet. They make a quick run downtown in Kiba's Jeep before heading across town to the mall. Ino's dad wants her to check in at their family-owned flower shop, which she is currently managing while her parents enjoy the rest of their vacation.  

A couple shops over, Hinata sees Sakura slip out of _Sun & Moon_. Grabbing lunch for the boys, she bets. She's about to give her a wave and call her over, when she hears Ino let out a huge gasp. 

"Sakura!" she yells, waving an arm in the air. "Hey bitch, come here!" 

Sakura whirls around with wide eyes, before bursting out into laughter. "Oh my gosh, hey!" 

Hinata is utterly confused. 

They give each other hugs and start chattering away with playful hits and big smiles. Hinata looks between the two of them until Ino finally remembers she's standing there. 

"Sorry, Hinata, this is Sakura, she used to work at the shop!" 

"I know who she is," Hinata replies with a small smile. "We grew up together and she's the receptionist at Naruto's shop." 

Ino turns to her with a fake look of betrayal. "You quit just to work down two doors? How could you!" 

Sakura gives a smirk and a shrug. "What can I say? My boyfriend is my boss, I get a lot of great benefits." 

Ino's jaw drops. "You're dating _that_ tall, dark and tatted hunk?" 

"Ino," Hinata gently reminds her friend, "you and Kiba are practically engaged." 

"Hinata," Ino responds in the same voice, "just because I'm not looking to buy doesn't mean I can't take a walk through the gallery."

Both Sakura and Ino laugh at Hinata's sullen expression, biting her tongue and trying not to smile. 

They catch up for a minute in the flower shop while Ino is also checking on her shop. A quick inventory sweep, a check on the flower shipments. Lilacs tomorrow, but roses next week. Even though all the college students had cleared out of town, they were still running short on roses because of the holidays. Sakura decides to join them for a shopping trip - a slow, sultry whisper over the phone is all Sasuke needs to let her off. 

"So, how is it with Naruto?" Sakura asks with a grin, leaning on the middle console from the backseat. "How was winter break?" 

Hinata responds with a happy, but very smug smile. "Oh, it was _very_ nice." 

They all share a giggle. "It must be hard with him flying out all the time though, right?" 

"Well, I mean, yeah." Hinata stumbles over her words, trying hard to attempt to be honest but also knowing that she was one of her boyfriend's best friends. "The worst part is that he never has time to talk to me while he's gone." 

"I still find that stupid," Ino remarks, turning the radio completely off. "He should at least have time to tell you he loves you once a day." 

"Ino," Hinata scolds. "He's busy. He's doing his job. I don't need him to tell me loves me every hour to know that." 

She spots Sakura in the rearview with a strange look in her eyes. Her small mouth is set into a hard line, and her usually soft eyes hold a strange nostalgia with them. 

Hinata has known Sakura since they were in grade school. She has seen every face the girl could possibly make. The ones full of pure laughter, enveloped in a lunch table story; the ones scorned by shame and guilt, tears marring the surface of her gentle face; the ones wrapped in sweet romance, hints of love fluttering under her eyelashes; the ones full of eye-rolling pleasure, teeth nipping at lips incessantly. But this is a sadness she has never known of Sakura. This is not from their time together. 

She locks gazes with Hinata through the mirror, hard and telling. 

Of what...she's not quite sure. 

Hinata spends most of the drive thinking about it, though her two companions continue chattering quite happily. But she continues to catch that glint in her eyes, sharp but sad. Guilty, maybe? Hinata can't think of any reason why Sakura would be guilty, with what their topic had been when it first appeared. 

As they begin their shopping excursion, Hinata tries to focus on the pampering. Though its not much of a pampering for her, more like giving Ino advice on what she thinks of a certain pair of heels.

But she can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. There's something she's not being told. Sakura dropping these little hints every now and then — all pieces in a ouzzle she doesn't even realize she's supposed to solve. 

As any normal person with anxiety like her would do, her mind immediately jumps to the worse conclusions. 

She knows he's not cheating on her, or any nature of that sort. He simply wouldn't - and that was that. Though the thought does flit through her mind every now and again, leaving her an aching shudder with each pass. But that is the one doubt she refuses to have of him. So what could it be?

Perhaps he's in trouble, she surmises. He always talked about how his only family had been his godfather and even he had passed a couple years ago. Maybe there was still debt to settle? The tattoo business itself was sometimes shady, maybe there was something there? And what about that weird guy that she occasionally saw coming out of the shop, who always requested to speak to Naruto in private? 

She puts on a fake smile as Ino comes out of the dressing room, forcing down the anxious bubbling in her throat. 

She eyes Sakura, who is sitting in a chair across from her, flipping idly through a magazine over her crossed legs. There is tension in her shoulders, her back, in just the way she carries herself. As an artist, Hinata likes to think she is particularly good at reading body language. 

She has never seen Sakura as tense as she is today. 

A loud ringtone gives all of them a start, and Hinata fumbles for her phone with a sheepish smile. The other women in the dressing area give her a scornful look. 

"Hey, Naruto," she answers quietly. "Are you home yet?" 

"Hey, babe, not quite yet. I got another day before I'm home. I think I'm flying in at 4 in the morning." 

She pouts. "Oh. Ok. I miss you." 

"I miss you so much," he replies. "I hate these trips as much as you do, but we gotta make money somehow." 

"Are you in debt or something?" she blurts out. She kind of regrets the words the moment they leave her lips, but she has to commit to it now. "I mean, Sasuke drives a Porsche and you have a handmedown Honda. The condo is owned by Sasuke. Why does he have all this money from the shop and you don't? Are you in trouble?" 

A pause. Its a nervous pause, she knows, and she can almost see him opening and closing his mouth. Out of the corner of Hinata's eye, she sees Sakura close her eyes and take a deep breath in. 

"Wait, what is this all of sudden?" he asks. "What, am I...not well off enough or something?" 

"No, nothing like that," she says quickly. She's trying not to get upset at him, but the accusation was a little painful.  "You know I don't care about any of that. I'm just, worried." 

"There's no reason to worry, babe. Look. Yeah, I'm in debt. We had to take out a pretty big business start loan to get our shop going, and we're paying it back. The only difference is that Sasuke has rich parents who support his business ventures and I got nothing. But I'm ok. I just gotta pay bills, babe. Which, for me, requires a little more sacrifice." 

"Okay," she says quietly. She's already embarassed herself enough for today. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten in your business like that." 

Naruto laughs, crackly over the poor service. "You're my girlfriend. It's your job to be in my business." 

"I'll make sure to try harder next time," she says with a little laugh. "Alright, come cuddle me when you get home. You know where the spare is." 

"I'd love nothing more. Love you, see you soon."

"Love you, too." 

She hangs up with a quiet sigh and a shuffling sink into the arm chair. Ino starts chattering on, asking about what he said, but Hinata is only paying half attention. Sakura is staring at her with that sharp gaze again, and Hinata furrows her brows together. 

 _What is she trying to tell me?_ she thinks. 

Although she just confronted him, Hinata is left with more questions than answers. She doesn't understand why she sees a warning in her eyes, and why this is the first time she's seeing it. What does Sakura know that she doesn't? 

Sakura only shakes her head and goes back to her magazine.

* * *

 

So he had lied. Whatever, its not like that was anything new. 

Lying was what he did. Its how he gets around in life, how he has lived this long. He's damn good at it, too, for the goofball personality he had developed and was well-known for. No one ever thought he would lie to them. 

See, that was the trick. He wasn't actually good at lying, but he made people believe him enough that he didn't have to be. He'll admit it, he leaves holes in his stories as wide as a shotgun range. But no one ever thought twice about them. 

Even Hinata. He hated lying to her, and he was terrible at lying to her especially, but she swallowed the lie just like everyone else did. His bright, happy face, that winning personality — he was golden. There was a reason he made it this far and came out of it relatively unscathed. 

He was back in town already, but she didn't need to know that. 

Naruto took this trip for another $20 grand hit. That should take care of what he owed for the rest of the month. Now he had time to sniff out the bastard that had found his way into his home. 

Tsunade had shuffled through some leads, before handing off some info on the most promising ones. Even though she had urged him to bring along Sasuke, he refused to get his partner involved in something he had no business being involved in. He didn't think he could handle it if something happened to him because they were out on Naruto's personal business. 

He only straps in three handguns and a switchblade, just in case something went _really_ wrong. Underwhelming, considering his usual assignments, but he wasn't expecting a firefight here. Although he’s good at what he does, he always prepares for the worst. 

The lead brings him to Third Street, and then a lonely and deserted drive. A dirt road, and lots of big barns that were chained shut. Oh yeah, this is definitely where he need to be heading. 

According to Tsunade, this guy was a real-life mad scientist. They had done work together in the past, even was in the family for a short time, before he decided he was better on his own and went rogue. They had been searching for this fucker for a long time, just to get the last of what he knew about the family out of him. Even though it had been damn near thirty years since he had left and he hadn’t peeped a single word about what he knew. 

But that was up to Naruto to decide.

He finally pulls up to a large, wooden house at the end of the drive. He can see several wooden squares popping up in the otherwise empty field — they can’t _all_  be storm cellars. No, they had to be something else. He makes sure the gun tucked safely into the back of his pants is nice and hidden, no parts of it peeking out. It’s already sunset as he shuts his car door quietly, which means he doesn’t have much time until nightfall hits and real shit could go down. 

A young man answers the door, which was not what Naruto was expecting. But he has a snake-ish smile, and dangerously glinting eyes, which could be seen plainly through the small crack in the door. He was definitely around the kind of crowd Naruto was looking for?

“Yes? Is there something I can help you with?"

“I’m here to see Orochimaru."

The young man’s saccharine smile turns into a hard line. “I’m sorry, he is currently unavailable."

“Cut the shit, dude,” Naruto says. “I’m not stupid. Look, I’m not here to for any reason other than to get information. Information I’m willing to exchange more information for."

The young man’s golden eyes dart to the side for a moment. “What’s your name? I’d have to ask if he’d like to speak with you."

“He knows my fucking name,” Naruto growls. “Just like I know yours, Kabuto. We’re already very familiar with each other, see, so I think you can let me in."

Kabuto sighs with a dark glare and opens the door. The front interior of the house looks normal, as they would make it of course. But Naruto knows there’s some big lab hidden here, somewhere. It’s how Orochimaru does all of his work. 

He had already gotten all the info on Kabuto, too. Orochimaru’s apprentice, a little starstruck with the man, even. He was the whispers of Orochimaru’s operation, the connection to the rest of the world. The old man was far too noticeable by everyone in the underground crime syndicate to be able to walk around in public. He had fucked with everyone at some point, and the only thing that kept them from going after him was that he had dirt on everybody else, too. In his own little home, he was virtually untouchable. 

It was admittedly a big risk that Naruto had walked into his home. Even while Orochimaru knew who he was, and what he was apart of. But Naruto needed some answers, and that’s what he was going to get. 

“I have a little fox visiting me,” a gravelly voice floats up from the stairwell. Ah, that’s what all those basement doors much be — stairways to the lab downstairs. “To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Naruto gives the old man a fake smile of his own as he sits carefully down across from the blonde. Orochimaru’s age has definitely caught up to him, despite all the rumors. Perhaps those were some of the man’s own making. But his hands were tense and veined, callused from all of his work. His face was tight, however, though in a disturbingly unnatural way. 

“Why were you in my house?"

A sickening smile on Orochimaru’s face unfurls. “What gave it away?"

“My father’s chair at the dining table was moved. It’s remained untouched for five years."

Orochimaru tsks at his protégé, who stands at his shoulder behind the couch. “Sloppy."

“My apologies,” Kabuto replies tensely, glaring at the blonde. “It won’t happen again.” 

“So what is it you want?” Orochimaru says, voice high and slithering. “You know very well there’s not much you can do to get the information back. Not like I haven’t already sold it anyways."

Naruto grits his teeth. “I want to know what the information was and who you sold it to."

“Hmm, an intriguing idea.” Orochimaru gives a venomous smile. “But information on any of the Konoha family, especially _you_ , is very hard to come by. Just what will you give me for it?"

This was the man’s game, it always was. While the little science experiments in the basement were his pet projects, the real way he made his living was secrets. When they played the game, information was the most valuable source anyone could have. Especially from a master spy. He had eyes and ears everywhere. 

Tsunade had said once that occasionally he enjoyed giving wrong information, just to see how it would play out. But he never picked favorites.

“I’ll give you five questions to ask me. Whatever you want, but I have the right to refuse any question."

Orochimaru considers for a moment, his golden eyes flickering. “Hmm. Very well. Who is expected to succeed if you do not?"

“Don’t know. That’s one."

“I would say that shouldn’t count because the information you gave me was useless, but it’s really quite telling. Is Tsunade’s new apprentice also the one who is now living with our beloved Sasuke?"

“Yes. Two."

“Oooh, very, very interesting indeed. How is she adapting to the family?"

“She’s quite taken to it. She’s also in medical school. She’s exactly who Tsunade wanted to join the family.” A glance. “That’s three."

“Who is the lovely young thing _you_ seem to have taken to?” 

Naruto’s entire body tenses up, and his eyes alight with anger. “ _Pass_ ,” he hisses. “She has nothing to do with the life. She doesn’t need to be involved, and _nobody_ needs to know about her.” 

Orochimaru remains silent, but gives the blonde a smirk that makes his skin crawl. He chuckles to himself, and it only enrages Naruto further. “Very well. I will keep the last two questions for…another time, perhaps."

“You know where to find me,” he replies begrudgingly. “Now, tell me what I need to know."

“Well, I don’t give out addresses, you know that. I sold the details of your recent hits to…interested buyers. Its a bit of everyone, really. I don’t need to give you specifics. You can pretty much assume everyone knows who you’ve killed."

A sigh. He lets Orochimaru think it’s disappointment, when it’s mostly relief. They didn’t know about Hinata. Sure, he could get other families coming after him for what he has done, but that was easy to deal with. Most people couldn’t keep up with him in combat, and he was far too good of a shot to lose in firefight. 

“Alright. Good eno—"

The sound of a gunshot explodes through the house, rattling all three of them. Kabuto immediately takes his mentor by the arm and leads him downstairs, while Naruto immediately pulls a handgun out of his waistband and clicks the safety out of place. He slowly and carefully sidles up next to the window, taking the opportunity to glance out of the crack where the wavering curtain provides small looks outside the window. 

Obnoxiously bright truck headlights prevent Naruto from being able to see who exactly it was outside, but there was a lot of yelling. Three…maybe four people. He couldn’t see into the cabin very well. He can’t even tell what family they’re from — with no visual, no identification, and little backup...

He was fucked. 

Once Kabuto gets his boss safely into his basement hideout, he picks up a rifle from another hidden compartment in the floor and holds against the door. “Any info?"

“A truck with obnoxious LCD headlights,” Naruto replies with a scoff. 

“Probably Kumo,” Kabuto says. “They watch this place constantly. They always get pissed when one of you comes to ask Orochimaru of more than you should. Think just because he used to be one of you, you have some claim to his secrets. That you don’t have to pay for it, in private, like everyone else does."

“You were in my fucking house,” Naruto growls. “Sorry if I don’t think that’s fair play."

“I am in _everyone’s_  house. It’s what I _do_. You’re not special."

“I need to know that my girlfriend and I are safe in at least my own fucking house. I can’t bring this to her, man."

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you introduced yourself into her life. It is your fault if she gets involved after all."

Naruto huffs at the younger man. It’s not like he didn’t know that — he did, and he reminded himself of it every day, constantly. It was fucking tortuous to think of, if she got hurt because of his poor decisions. His choice to involve himself in her life before he was out. He could never forgive himself if something happened to her because of him. 

He aims carefully — or as well as he can hunched next to a window. He fires a shot at the driver, poking through his window. It hits him the forearm, which isn’t where he wanted but is pretty damn good considering his lack of proper aim. Naruto ducks, dodging the bullets lodging themselves in the wood above him.

While they’re distracted shooting at Naruto, Kabuto takes this chance to shoot off a couple rounds in the general direction of a truck. They hear dings against metal and a loud groan of pain, so they assume they hit at least _something_. There are more jeers coming from the vehicle, and then several guns going off at once. 

Naruto attempts to move to the other side of the window, in as low of a crouch as he can, but his shadows must have been thrown in the curtain across the window. Searing pain shoots through him and he crumples to the ground. There’s at least one bullet in his abdomen, possibly two. He can’t tell with the burning spreading through him. 

“Shit,” he hisses. 

Kabuto drops to the floor and crawls over to him, checking at his chest. He places Naruto’s hands where the bullet wounds are and tells him to apply pressure. 

“You think I haven’t been shot before?” Naruto laughs. “I know what to do."

“A habit,” the other man replies with a roll of his eyes. He picks up his gun again with bloodied hands, although he doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to be adept at handling a gun with slippery fingers, drenched a dark maroon. Naruto is positive he empties the clip, though his thoughts are a little hazy. 

There’s several minutes where all he can focus on is pressing on his wounds, which hurt like hell, and breathing. It fucking hurts, but it’s nothing major, he knows. He’s still going to have to drive home on his own, not like he would ever call Sasuke to pick him up from here. He definitely wouldn’t let Kabuto drive him. 

Not like he hasn’t driven with worse injuries. 

“They’re gone,” Kabuto says suddenly, dropping the rifle onto a table. “Let me get you sewed up."

“Please,” Naruto scoffs, allowing himself to be helped up. “I wouldn’t trust you with a fucking bandaid."

Kabuto rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses up with his forearm. His hands were far too dirty to touch them. “Fine, just get a medic to look you over when you get home."

It’s admittedly rather hard to hold a phone, drive, and apply pressure to his wounds all at the same time. But he does so anyway. He admits he’s not a very good driver when he’s been shot. 

“You should really lie to Hinata better,” Sakura answers when she picks up. “Honestly, the effort you put in should really be better."

“I’ll take a note of that,” Naruto laughs, with a wince. 

“Wait, what’s wrong?” she immediately asks, voice growing quickly worried. “You sound hurt."

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “I have two bullet wounds and I think one’s still lodged in there somewhere."

“Oh, fucking Christ,” she curses, and he can hear the scuffling of her purse. “Are you home yet?"

“No, ETA is about ten minutes."

“You could bleed out! Drive faster, you moron."

“It’s a little hard to focus on the gas pedal, alright? Let yourself in, get set up."

“Don’t you _dare_  fucking do this to me again. And I better get an explanation."

“Yeah, yeah."

* * *

 

Hinata is woken up in the middle of the night by a gentle kiss to her neck. She hums in delight, turning over to kiss her boyfriend back. She loves waking up to his smell, warm and subtle, but so comforting. She kisses him a little desperately, having missed him for the few days he was gone. 

“Mmm, I missed you,” he chuckles, dragging a warm hand down her side. 

“I did, too,” she murmurs, trailing a hand up his chest. “You know what I definitely missed?"

“What’s that?"

She turns over to straddle him, tugging playfully at the waistband of his boxers, but she sees a look of pain flash across his face. “Wait, what’s wrong? What did I do?"

“Nothing, honey,” he says, still wincing yet trying to seem unfazed anyhow. “I just – oh, _shit_  – I can’t have you on top of me."

She’s taken aback. Her light eyes flash between his face of pain and the hands at his side that restrain from reaching for whatever hurts. Where are they —

She pulls up his shirt before he has any idea what she’s doing. 

“Hinata—"

She can’t believe what she’s seeing. Two lines of sewed up skin on his side, puckered and an inflamed red. They’re not too long, but the skin is shiny and burnt around the edges. They interrupt the beautiful color of his tattoos, almost as if they seared through the image themselves, like a fire set to a canvas. She’s not quite sure what she feels in that moment. Shock? Worry? Betrayal?

“Are these…"

“Babe, it’s not—"

“Are these fucking gunshot wounds? Did you get _shot_?"


	9. you can't fight the friction

Something wasn’t right. 

His words float through her mind from the previous night, from their fight. 

He refused to tell her what was really going on. He said something about some chemical burn, some kind of experimental new ink. “They had to cut it out,” he said. “It would have eaten away at the skin, babe.” 

 _What a liar!_ she fumes to herself. That wouldn’t have happened, in any kind of situation. 

This just leaves Hinata wondering what exactly he’s hiding that he can’t tell her. He’s not cheating — that wouldn’t correlate to the injuries, or any of the other strange things going on. Now that she thinks about it, there is a lot of other weird things that occur around him that aren’t explained. The men coming to his shop all the time? Definitely not with a bank, like he had said. The strange smell he always came home with after a trip? 

She can’t even pay attention in class. She flips closed her Biology notebook with a sigh, realizing she’s retained exactly ten percent of whatever was said over the last hour. 

At home isn’t much better, she realizes quickly. 

“What?” she asks quietly, exasperated. 

Kiba and Shino had sat her down the moment she walked through the door. She’s so anxious her skin is crawling, even toward her perfect boys. They were making her nervous, the way their eyes never met hers, the way they continued to make restless movements. Shino tapped his feet, Kibra rung his hands over amd over. Kiba and Shino had heard the fight they had last night — which had, admittedly, ending in yelling and slamming doors — and she was worried they were concerned for her. For a reason they shouldn't be. 

“Hinata, you _yelled_  at him last night,” Kiba starts, an unsure look in his eyes. “I think I’ve seen you yell approximately three times in my life, and they were all because you were simply too far away."

“We were having a fight,” Hinata mumbles defensively.

“You aren’t usually aggressive,” Shino continues. “We’re concerned that…he’s changing you."

“Changing me?” she repeats, in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?"

Kiba just points to her. “See! You would usually say something like, ‘Oh, there’s no reason to worry,’” he says, imitating a high falsetto. “ _This_  isn’t you."

Hinata scoffs, hurt. “I’m just stressed, you guys. Am I not allowed to be stressed? Am I not allowed to be… ‘aggressive’?"

“That is not what we’re saying,” Shino replies. “It’s just not like you. We think perhaps Naruto is having a negative influence on you."

The only negative influence he’s having on her is being so secretive. Of having that big secret, that’s gnawing at her heart, her gut, her conscience. It’s getting her so riled up because she _cares_  about him, and she’s so scared. He’s getting hurt, and it’s obviously not something he can help. She cares so much because she wants to _help_  him but he won’t let her. 

Maybe she had been acting different. Her art hasn’t been flowing quite like usual — all hard edges and uninspired designs. 

She’s not aggressive, they’re right. But she is so adamant because she cares. She’ll interrogate him for however long she has to, just so she can help him.

“He’s just…He’s just…” Oh God, here it comes. The tears come running now, like a wave surging behind the surface. “There’s something wrong and I don’t know _what_ , and I—I just want to _help_! But he won’t _let me_! And I-I just care so much…"

The tears don’t stop now, even as Kiba and Shino take her into their arms and hold her close. She curls up between them and sobs into their shirts, dainty fingers pulling at the fabric. She hasn’t cried like this in a while — not since the Incident, probably. Not since her father kicked her out. 

“Shh, it’s okay, ‘Nata, it’s okay.” 

Kiba, who is naturally a very brash person, melts into the palm of her hand when she’s upset. The dull grumble always in his voice turns into a low hum that acts like a lullaby. His warm hands gently tuck her head into the crook of his neck, smoothing down her hair as he murmurs to her. He turns soft for her. 

Shino doesn’t like touching, but she is always the exception. He holds her hand, rubbing in gentle circles into her palm. He presses his chest to her back, lets her feel his calm breathing. Touches his forehead to her shoulder blade. Whenever she talks to him about it, thanks him, he always gets embarrassed, and changes the subject. 

It take a while, but at last she takes in a shuddering breath and picks her head up. Embarrassed, she wipes at her own tears. 

“Thanks, you guys,” she mumbles, pressing a kiss to their foreheads. “I love you two."

They smile at her. “We’re always here for you. Better than anyone."

“I know,” she replies, swiftly getting up and pulling her boots back on. 

“Where are you going?” they question. There is a shared look of concern between them, as if they don’t believe she’s sane enough to back out into the world again. 

She tugs on a scarf with a confident smirk. “I have some work to do."

* * *

 

Sakura had agreed to meet her for lunch, which was admittedly just a façade. Sakura had been dropping too many hints for Hinata to just let it go — if she was going to figure anything out, it was going to be from her. 

Sakura smiles as they hug and sit down at the table, but the look in her jade eyes says it all. She knows why she’s here. 

Small talk first, Hinata repeats in her head like a mantra, despite how much she wants to get straight to the point. A quick talk of classes, of how the shop is doing. Some juicy details about her and Sasuke’s private life. 

"Sakura," she says finally. Calmly, quietly. "What's going on?" 

Sakura purses her lips. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific." 

Ok, Hinata thinks. That's reasonable - she can't give anything away that isn't asked of her. And even then, she has to limit what she says, most likely. Ok, Hinata can work with that. She doesn’t understand exactly what game she’s playing, but she’s learning the rules quickly. 

"Why is he keeping secrets from me?" 

Her questions are careful, precise. They get straight to the point without asking Sakura to reveal too much. 

"He wants to protect you." 

Unfortunately, Sakura's answers are just as guarded. 

"Why do I need to be protected?" 

Sakura looks up at her under long lashes, a kind of familiar sadness in her eyes. She's been in Hinata's shoes. Or maybe it's a relic of their past from long ago. Hinata doesn’t know which.

"Our life is dangerous. And if you knew, he's have to bring you in right as he's getting out.  He's trying to avoid that at all costs."

"Is that why you got in? Because of Sasuke?" 

A sow, solemn nod. "I love him. If this is how I have to live to be with him, so be it." 

" _What_ exactly have you all gotten yourselves into?" Hinata asks in a quiet whisper. 

A slow shake of her head, pink waves bouncing across the soft shape of Sakura's face. "That I can't tell you." 

Hinata's exasperated, her hands running through her hair. "What, are-are you dealing or something? Is that it?" 

Sakura laughs, but its harsh. Sad. "If only."

* * *

 

"You know, she's close."  

They stare at the dark walls of their flat together, curled up on the couch. The sun has already descended, leaving only streaks of purple in the dark sky. But the lights of the city filter through their blinds, casting shadows throughout the apartment. The heater gives a low hum, something to break the otherwise disturbing silence. 

"I'm sure," Sasuke responds. His book is open in front of him, but he hasn’t read a word.

"You aren't going to tell him?" 

Sasuke sighs, picking his head up to look at Sakura. 

"What would be the point? She'll put herself in more danger until she finds out the truth." Much like she had, Sakura thinks. "Its better to let things play out as they will." 

"He'll kill you when he finds out you kept this from him." 

"Yeah, well, Naruto can kiss my ass. This is for that idiots own good." 

It's an awful attempt to lighten the mood, but it brings a smile to her face anyhow. She gives him an affectionate kiss, pulling him to comfortably lay on top of her. 

"Aw, you _do_ care!" 

"Ugh, don't tell him that. He wouldn't shut up about it for weeks." 

* * *

 

Despite that she doesn’t want to drop the subject that something fishy was going on with her boyfriend, she would. For now. It wasn’t worth constantly fighting with him about, and it definitely wasn’t worth this absolutely painful radio silence. No phone calls or texts since their fight last night. It was making her anxiety shoot through the roof. 

Hinata also wanted to show him that she didn’t like fighting, that she wasn’t going to be one of _those_  girlfriends. She wanted to work this out — she wanted to be a rational adult, and talk things out. 

She could bring up the issue of “You’re involved in some illegal activity that you can’t tell me anything about” later. 

Hinata takes a deep breath in, sitting on her bed. She presses on Naruto’s contact number, anxiety gnawing in her stomach as the phone rings. 

“Hey,” he answers. He’s being short with her, she can tell just by his voice. He doesn’t say anything else. 

“Hey,” she says, quietly. “I was wondering if I could come over."

“You wanna come over?” He’s surprised. 

As well he should be, she thinks. Hinata had kicked him out last night, in a fit from their fight. It was their first fight, after all, and neither of them really knew what to expect one another. She approaches the situation gently.

“Yes.” A pause. “I’m sorry."

He laughs, a sound like twinkling even in the crackle of the receiver. “It’s okay, Hinata. I’m at fault, too. We’ll talk about it. Do you want me to come get you?"

“Please,” she asks with a beaming smile that he can’t see, but can definitely hear. “I miss you."

“I miss you, too,” he says. “I’ll be there soon."

When he gets there, he knocks softly on the door. Hinata jumps up from her bed, swinging a purse over her shoulder and greets him at the door. She gives him a shy smile, then rushes forward to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands trail around her waist and he buries his nose in her hair. 

“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear. 

She smiles. “I love you, too."

 _But I will find out what you’re keeping from me_.

* * *

 

Hinata’s eyes blearily squint at the bright sun that filters across Naruto’s bedroom. They forgot to close the bedroom curtains, again. The light filters across the cold room, specks of dust dancing, trapped in sunbeams. Lazily, she rolls over, throwing an arm across her face. 

“Naruto?” she calls out, sleepily. 

No answer. 

This isn’t the first time he’s left her alone in his house, though it has been a while. Oh, well. She’ll hang out for a while anyway, and besides, she’s a little too sore to really want to move for the next few hours anyway. Besides, she kind of likes being trusted to be in his flat without him. Like he trusts her with everything personal. 

The sheets are warm against her skin, but she breaks out into goosebumps the moment she slips from them to get dressed. She throws on one of Naruto’s worn shirts, smiling happily at his comforting scent. She idly checks her phone to see the time, and is surprised to see a message from her boyfriend. 

 **from** : **naruto _  
_** _hey, went to go get donuts. be back in about 45. love you._

She smiles, and starts toward the living room to wait for him to get home. Something is off, though...

Right, she needs panties. 

Despite that they were definitely that comfortable around each other, she just finds it strange to lounge around with no underwear. Even though there have been countless times where he has complained that it’s “one extra thing for them to take care of later,” she insists. 

“Ugh, where are they…"

 _Maybe under the bed?_ she thinks. It’s possible. What was supposed to be their discussion about their fight last night had mostly turned into vigorous make up sex. They were definitely in kind of a flurry last night, a little rougher than usual. He had practically ripped her panties off her, and probably would have _actually_  torn them off her if she had not insisted on keeping them intact. 

She flips up the duvet, although she doesn't find her panties there. 

There _is_  simething else there, though. It’s a long, sleek, black case. She notices the silver latches on the side are undone, almost as if it was hastily done. It carries with it that strange, sharp smell that Naruto always has after he returns from a business trip. 

She shouldn’t open it, she knows that. But…with everything that was going on… Sakura’s cryptic hints, _his_  cryptic behavior, all the strange things happening… And it wasn’t technically latched! 

“A peek won’t hurt, right?” Hinata mumbles to herself. 

She feels horrible, anxiety rolling through her stomach queasily, but it doesn’t stop her from pulling the case toward her anyhow. Her fingers shake on the latches, their clattering sounding like an explosion in the silent flat. She doesn't even know what it could be, although a thousand ideas are flashing through her head. The lid is heavy, and is perfectly silent as she props it open. 

It is a sleek, black rifle, with a matte finish. She can see the additions carefully placed in their compartments — a precision sight, a silencer. A small carton of hollow point ammo mocks at her from inside the case. Piled on top, are messily scattered…pictures? Some in black and white, some in color. 

Her breath catches in her throat. Her chest is tight. Her whole body goes numb, except for the hammering in her chest. Her hand shakes as she reaches for the pictures, piling them into a neat little stack. Some have an X drawn on the face in red sharpie. Upon further inspection, there is a price on the backs. 

“What the fuck,” she breathes, with wide eyes and shaking hands. “Oh my god, what the _fuck_."

* * *

 

It had been getting close lately, that he would admit. 

Hinata was smart — she was very fucking smart, and he knew that after a while his lies wouldn’t work on her. But he wanted to pretend they would for as long as they could. He just wants to protect her. He was so close to getting out, and it would be just his luck to involve her in his dangerous life now.

The donuts are warm in his hands, despite the freezing temperatures outside. It’s almost February, shouldn’t it start warming up already? He thinks about this idly to himself as he climbs up the stairs to his condo.

“Hey, babe!” Naruto calls as he slips inside the door to his condo. “I brought donuts!"

He turns to find her sitting on the couch, staring at him with hard eyes. Something’s wrong.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she says with a voice like ice. 

His stomach drops, but he refuses to drop the pretense. He has to protect her for as long as he can. 

“Donuts?” he tries, with a dumbfounded smile. “Sorry, I thought you would be asleep until I got home.  But I thought you would like breakfast."

She slowly stands up, and even though she’s only in his tshirt and underwear she looks absolutely terrifying. Regal, like a queen out for blood. Her mouth sets in a hard line and her shoulders square up against him. 

“Tell me what exactly is going on,” she says, in that same tone. Precise, exact, cutting. This was a side of Hinata he hadn’t seen before, and quite frankly, it made him nervous.

“You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” he says gruffly, turning to set the donuts on the dining room table. Maybe she would think they were just going to fight again?

“You are lying to me,” she whispers. It’s almost like a hiss. “The trips, the injuries, the weird people coming to the shop. What are you not telling me, Naruto?"

He sighs, exasperated. “Look, I have a debt, ok. I do a little more work, we already talked about this."

He tries to keep his body language as nonchalant as possible, irritated if anything. He knows she can tell anything from his movements — she’s an artist, that’s what she’s fucking trained for. But he was trained to kill, to incapacitate, and even deceive, albeit badly. 

 _I’m such a bad liar_. 

Naruto turns just in time to see her smile, something dangerous glimmering behind her usually kind eyes.

“Yeah?” Hinata says. " _Then what are the guns for_?"

He can’t help the way he freezes up and his eyes go wide. Everything in his mind is screaming RED ALERT, but he can’t stop now. The bad lies roll off his tongue before he has a chance to bite them back in. 

“What? Oh, that." Naruto turns to pull out the donuts and set the table. _Fuck. Fuck fuck._ "It's just a hobby. I like shooting sometimes. Is that a problem?" 

She grits her teeth at him, and he's never seen her this mad before. Not even during their fight, not last night. It would be a little adorable if he wasn't terrified. 

"Then what about the _pictures_?" 

He doesn't know how to get out of this one. All his alarms in his head are going off, screaming _RED ALERT, RED ALERT_ at him. What can he say? "Those were a joke back from high school - all the assholes, y'know." 

Oh, fuck, that was terrible. They had his price tags on the back of them for god sakes - he should really burn them more often. Naruto’s mind is scrambling for a better lie when he hears a chillingly familiar click of a safety being released. 

He turns, slowly, to face her. 

Hinata is staring him down the barrel of a Ruger. His smallest pistol. Her bright eyes are angry, filled with tears. But that does not take away from her determination. She knows how to aim, how to take a stance to hold a pistol. He wonders where she learned _that_ , and where to look so damn elegant doing it. 

“Tell me. What _the fuck_  is going on, Naruto,” she whispers. 

 _Fuck_.


	10. the truth catches up to us eventually

His heart is beating so quickly, all of his instincts screaming at him to disarm her. But this is _Hinata_ — this is the woman he loves, the woman who loves him, right? Besides, her hands are shaking now, and she has to put her left hand over her right just to keep it steady. She doesn’t really intend to shoot him.

That doesn’t help the cold sweat that drips down the back of his neck, or his nerves that are on fire. It really does seem like a nightmare.

Naruto had some fear at the beginning, that maybe she was a set-up for him. Something Tsunade set up to teach him that he would never be safe, even if he got out of the business. Or that she really was a decoy sent by the Akatsuki to take him out.

That idea was long gone from his head of course, but that fear still ran through his mind even now.

But then he sees that her lip is quivering, despite the determined furrow of her brow. She is terrified, her bright eyes wide and welling up with tears. She’s hyperventilating, but trying not to show it, her breaths coming out in quiet little bursts.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he says slowly, taking an inching step forward. “Just put the gun down, babe. Please. Please put the gun down.”

That’s when she breaks, flipping the gun over to hand him the magazine, and sinking to the floor. He quickly pops the magazine out and flicks the safety back on, just in case, and carefully sets it on the dining room table. He kneels next to her, pulling her hands away from her face.

“God, I’m sorry,” she sobs, still pulling from his hands to try and hide her face. “I’m j-just so fucking confused, and y-you wouldn’t tell me and — and then I found those things and I got so f-freaked out and—and—and…”

“Shh, shh, I know, I know.”

Naruto holds her as her body shakes from crying and a clumsy tongue trying to shudder out explanations. He kisses her hair and murmurs to her, but he knows she just feels terrible. You can’t point a gun at someone you love and bounce back from that.

But he can’t help but know that it was his fault. If he wasn’t like this, if he hadn’t have lied to her if he hadn’t have gotten interested in her while he was still in the business in the first place; none of this would have happened. She would have gone on her merry way, continued through art school and went on to lead a successful life. She would have fallen in love with someone else, probably.

She wouldn’t be crumpled on the floor, broken because she had pointed a gun at the man she loves.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, gasping for a shuddering breath. “God, I’ve just had a lot of emotions lately and they ran so high and — I’m just, I’m sorry. I don’t know how you can ever trust me again.”

“I’ve pointed guns at a lot of people who’ve trusted me, and vice versa,” he says. He’s not quite sure he got the reassuring effect he was aiming for. “I mean, Sasuke and I are still alive?”

She raises a thin eyebrow at him, sniffling. “You’ve pointed a gun at Sasuke? You guys are like brothers.”

Naruto sighs. “Yeah, he’s the closest thing to a brother I’ve got. But when we were fourteen, he left the family to go join this creep because he offered some big benefits. I probably shouldn’t tell you his name — I probably shouldn’t tell you any names — but basically he put me and Sasuke against each other in this fucked up psychological warfare. We had guns to each others heads more than I can count.”

“That’s terrible,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Her expression is almost unreadable. She’s trying not to freak out, he can tell, but the pure weight of everything he’s already told her — which is really only a fraction — is evident in her eyes.

“Look,” he starts, tentatively, taking her hands and guiding her to meet his eyes. “You can freak out if you need to. I…this story isn’t a normal one. And it’s even more fucked up because it’s my own life. This is a lot. It’s why I wanted to keep it from you as long as I possibly could.”

“Okay,” she agrees quietly. “But I want to listen first. I want to know. I want you to be able to trust me.”

Her mouth was set in a determined line, her eyes blazing with the want for knowledge, something he’s always loved about her. Right now, he kind of wishes she was more willing to be left in the dark.

But he had never been that willing, so he can’t really blame her.

“C’mon, let’s at least sit somewhere comfy.”

* * *

 

Naruto guides her to the couch, where he hands her a glass of water and lets her wiggle her toes underneath his thigh, like she always does when she’s cold. His hands, rough from his work, stroke her legs. It’s this closeness, this silent, comfortable intimacy that tells her that things are finally starting to make sense again between the two of them.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat awkwardly. She can tell he’s absurdly nervous. “I guess the best place to begin is my parents. They were the heads of this…organization, is the best word to call it. It’s not a gang, and it’s kinda like a mafia, but not nearly as sophisticated, and also we hate that word. So let’s just call this an organization. Anyway, my dad was the head and my mom was married to him. They were killed a few days after I was born, and that’s when my godfather took me in.

“He had been part of the life, too, but he was old. He wasn’t fit for fighting on the front lines anymore, so he mostly handled a big spy network. Did up until he died — we’re still recovering from that loss, because nobody that was in his network will trust anybody but him.

“Now obviously, I was raised in the life. Sorry, a quick definition — the life is just kind of what we call it without having to say what it is. For not only publicity and secrecy reasons, but also because a lot of don’t like to admit to ourselves that we’re major players in a huge crime syndicate. Anyway, since I was raised by the organization, I was trained at a young age. So was Sasuke. We’re trained from a young age — how to fight, at first. When we’ve proven ourselves, we learn how to handle bigger, more dangerous things. Pocket knives, real swords, then pistols and rifles. Eventually they pick out the areas you excel in and they choose an expertise for you. For me, it was assassination.”

“That just really seems so unlike you,” Hinata interrupts, giving him an apologetic look. “This isn’t me being judgmental, just honest. You are so…bright, loud, and you draw a lot of attention to yourself. Assassination seems like a very…covert operation.”

He laughs, and even though it’s tight, coiled in his chest, she can tell it’s real. There’s some irony and truth in her statement.

“That’s just my personality,” he replies. “That’s who I am. But I can choose to be silent, to be…simply ordinary. They taught me that. It did come a little harder to me, as a kid who wanted so desperately to prove that I belonged there, that I was apart of our family. But they chose me for assassination because I’m an excellent shot. Everybody knows who I am in our world — I’m famous among the crime rings. I’m Naruto Uzumaki, son of the great Minato Namikaze and heir to the—” He breaks off suddenly, giving her a guilty glance. “Sorry. I don’t want to tell you any names you don’t need to know. The less you know, the better.”

She nods. Perhaps it’s less pressure to know. But he’s finally telling her the deepest parts about him, about his secret life, and she’ll take what she can get.

“Anyway, it’s about being unseen for me. I know how to avoid people, I know how to be absolutely silent, I know how to lie—”

“That I’m not so sure of,” Hinata grins.

“—and I know how to shoot,” he finishes with a laugh and a pinch at her thigh. His body is more relaxed now, she can see. His shoulders aren’t so tight anymore, his hands aren’t shaking as much as they were. He unwinds and pulls her legs to rest in his lap, gently rubbing at her feet. “They found that to be the most useful of my skills. I’m also good at fighting at close range, especially since I have more stamina than most people, but that puts me at more of a risk. I’m their beloved heir to the family, and they don’t wanna put me in more danger than necessary for me to ‘properly contribute.’”

“Okay, wait,” she says. “So how are you supposedly getting out if you’re the heir?”

He sighs, resting his head on the cool leather of the couch. “Sakura told you that part, huh?”

Hinata gives him a sheepish smile. “She didn’t tell me more than necessary. Also, I could have figured it out from context anyway, smart one.”

He rolls his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to her calf as he does so.

“I’m the heir, but I don’t want to be. I don’t like killing people, even if they’re bad people who are trying to hurt me and my family. I hate this fucking life. I just wanna be an artist and create beautiful tattoos. And I told that to our boss, a former teacher of my dad who took over when he died. At first, she told me to kiss her ass and that I was never getting out, because it was my destiny. I was persistent. But so was she. Then, I started getting depressed, and my work suffered. I got hurt more, started throwing myself in the midst of danger because I wasn’t doing my job well enough to prevent the danger in the first place.

  
“She saw what it was doing to me and gave me a deal. She fucking loves deals — and gambling, but that’s beside the point. She told me that if I could pay them back everything I owed them for being raised, fed, clothed, trained, etc., I could leave. They invested a lot of money in me on account of me being the heir, and so I figured that was a fair deal. Until I found out the price.” A pause. “Ten million." 

Hinata lets out an unsteady breath, eyes widening. “Ten _million_?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the _p_. “Apparently, that’s how much I’m worth, net price. They should really get that info out, I’m worth a lot less on my bounty price.” She elbows him with a glare — _not funny_. “So I pay about two hundred thousand every month or so to work toward paying it off. I have another two years or so before I’m done. It seems so close but it’s so fucking far away. But yeah, that’s why I’m gone all the time. I go take missions and bounties. And that’s who the creeps at the shop are — the collectors Tsunade hires to embarrass the shit out of me.”

“So her name’s Tsunade?”

He freezes up, guilt boiling through him. “Fuck. Damn it. Yeah. Sorry. Just pretend like you never heard that name, okay?”

“I’ll just make sure nobody else knows I’ve ever heard that name,” she says, leaning over to kiss him.

It seems like it’s been so long since they kissed. Sure, they kissed last night, but that was somewhat angry make-up sex, which involved mostly a lot of biting and hickies. Their lips are sweet against another, slow with emotion. They move against each other like they always have, as if they have known each other their entire lives. It’s relieving to be able to kiss him like this after so long, a smile unfurling on her face as they breathe one another in.

“Thank you,” she whispers once they break apart, holding his face in her dainty hands. “It feels very special to know.”

“You are very special,” he replies. “You are so special, okay. And I — I never meant for it to get like this. I was just trying to protect you. I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“We’ll just keep doing what we’re doing,” she says. “It’ll be fine, right?”

“Well, I don’t know, babe,” he answers, and the alarm in his eyes is enough to make her heart jump. “I — I can’t guarantee anything. I can’t guarantee that somebody from another family isn’t gonna try to use you to get to me. I can’t guarantee that you’re not gonna get dragged into this somehow. I can’t guarantee anything, and I beat myself up so bad for this when we first got together because no matter what, if we’re together, I can’t guarantee you being safe.”

She can tell he can see a small flash of panic in her eyes, but she curls up to him and grips his hands tight. “But we wouldn’t be the same without each other. I don’t care what being with you means, because I wouldn’t want to be without you.”

There is a split second where she can’t read him, but then he gives her a slow smile. It’s not his usual bright grin, but it’s soft, relieved, loving. She wonders if this is how he sees her.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he murmurs.

* * *

 

“You’re very clever, you know." 

Sakura cocks her eyebrow as she gives Hinata a smirk, sitting cross-legged on the other woman’s bed. She had been invited over for dinner to catch up with Ino once she got back from work, but also so Hinata could have a little privacy beforehand to talk to her about the whole “You three are involved in this huge crime syndicate thing and you never told me even though we’re best friends and we dated for two years in high school and I thought you could tell me anything” thing.

“Oh, I know I am,” Sakura replies. “That’s why I got to where I am.”

“And how was that, exactly?”

Hinata’s words still hold an edge of danger to them, and Sakura narrows her jade eyes.

“Connections,” she says simply. “And desperation. And the fact that Sasuke is never getting out, and this was the only way to truly be with him and know all of him.”

Hinata thinks on that for a moment, setting aside some of her paintings from the last semester over to one corner. The two of them had talked it over, and they had a game plan now for how they were going to work this out. She wasn’t going to know names. She was going to pretend like she didn’t know why those collection agents were there, and they were going to enjoy the time they had together. She wouldn’t text him on his trips out — he would call or text her if he had time, if he had service, if he wasn’t putting himself in danger by doing so.

“You know, Naruto and I talked about all of this.”

“Right.”

“He said he’s going to teach me how to protect myself. Basic maneuvers.”

Hinata lets her eyes slide over to Sakura’s who bursts into laughter. Of course, the two of them knew exactly how well Hinata could protect herself — sure, it would help to have a sparring partner every now and then. But she was mostly hoping her boyfriend would think she was really badass and they would have really good sex after.

“Oh, man,” Sakura snorts, rolling onto her back. “You should have seen Sasuke’s face after I kicked ass during basic training. He basically attacked me in the hallway. Only good damn thing your dad did for either of us was teach us how to fight.”

“So you’ll keep it a secret?” Hinata laughs, ignoring the twinge of pain that came with the mention of her father.

“I wouldn’t _dare_ take that joy away from you,” she reassures.

“I’m a little rusty,” Hinata admits, “but it’s all muscle memory. Mostly, I just need to do some strength training again.”

“If you want a partner, I’d be happy to do it with you.”

“Oh, you’re so busy with everything else, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m getting Ino to do it with me — she thinks Kiba’s going to propose soon and she wants to start looking good for pictures.”

“She already looks good? As per usual?”

Hinata rolls her eyes, nodding. “That’s Ino, you know. She’s convinced she can get rid of her muffin top.”

“Oh, that muffin top she doesn’t have? That one?”

They laugh as Sakura rolls off the bed, shaking her head. She turns to inspect some of Hinata’s paintings. The one she picks up is a sunset piece — the one she painted when Naruto first went on one of his trips and she was so frustrated. She can see the frustration in her brush strokes even now.

“What do you even _do_ with all these paintings after the semester is over?”

“Usually, I give them away,” Hinata says. “Christmas, birthdays, thank you’s, just cause.”

“You should sell these,” Sakura remarks, thumbing over the hardened acrylic. “They’re really good.”

“I don’t know if they’re good enough to sell yet,” she replies, blushing at the compliment. “Besides, who would even buy them?”

“You know, you’d be surprised. I bet you local businesses would love them. Beautiful artwork, and some brownie points for them because they’re supporting the university community. You could even have an auction or something at a local place, they get a bunch of business and you get to sell your art to college students and locals.”

Hinata blinks, turning to her friend. “Wow, that’s actually not a bad idea.”

“You could pay rent that way, or make some extra cash,” Sakura remarks.

“Or help Naruto pay his debt,” Hinata says, slowly. Her eyes flash to Sakura’s, breaking out in a grin. “You’re a genius!”

Sakura laughs it off, giving Hinata a hug. “I mean, I _do_ have a 4.0 in pre-med. I do my best.”

It was decided — now all she had to do was figure out where and when and how to advertise and who would come and…

Okay, maybe there was some work to do.


	11. you've gotta face up

The sound of their laughs got lost in the busy clamor of Ichiraku, even sitting at the bar. It was packed on a Friday night, full of cold college kids getting themselves warm. Hinata felt like she hadn’t gotten any rest the entire month of winter break, and the start of the semester had been just as hectic, with everything that had gone on. From the post-semester exhaustion to the holidays to learning about the secret life Naruto had been hiding from her, she didn’t feel as if she had gotten nearly enough sleep.

“Thank you,” she says with a smile as Teuchi slides a bowl of steaming hot ramen in front of her.

The old man gives her a wink. “Extra pork for the lady. Family discount.”

Naruto huffs. “No extra pork in mine, old man?”

“You wore out the family discount a long time ago, kid.”

They laugh, and when Naruto pouts Hinata gently kisses his cheek. “You can have some of mine, you big baby.”

Teuchi had been an old part of the family, apparently. Naruto wasn’t able to give her too much information — had to keep her as far out of the loop as he could, for her own safety — but he had been somewhat of a friendly face when he was growing up. He had grown up in the family, but he was a piss poor shot. So he had to learn how to support the family in different ways — and he grew up to become one of the cooks for the family.

Of course, most members lived on their own, outside of the main compound, but some did. The head of the family and their family lived there, for example, and any important and essential personnel they may have. Though, sometimes the personnel just had rooms there for when they needed it, and didn’t permanently stay at the compound. Sakura, for example, had her own office in the base but usually stayed in Sasuke’s permanent room there when she ended up having to sleep between meetings with Tsunade, or had stayed up too late researching.

Teuchi apparently used to cook large meals during holidays (for family that had no other homes, or even their own family), celebrations, and other events. He also made personal meals sometimes for the head family, or snacks throughout the day to keep other members satiated during long hours of work.

All the while he was earning money from doing service work for the family, since they didn’t put any resources into training him — Naruto had explained with a grumble — they gave him wages for his work, though he made significantly more than other service crewman. With that money, he had opened up his own restaurant.

Now, Teuchi only came to cook large holiday or celebration meals, since he needed to maintain his own restaurant. And, after all, his big principle was that he was there, making meals six days a week — the other day of the week, his daughter came in and manned the controls.

Hinata really enjoyed getting to know more about the people around the man she loved, now that she knew about the family. It was important to her that she was able to get closer to him, that he could share important aspects of his life with her.

For example, Teuchi was a positive adult figure for a large part of his childhood. He had a few, of course, but the rest had always been so serious, with other hidden agendas or goals, Naruto had explained. But Teuchi was always there for a light, easy conversation to get his mind off of training, or the overwhelming responsibility that he one day had to become the head of the family. Having that comforting space in his life was important to him, and now he always comes to Teuchi when he needs a break.

“It helps that his restaurant is based off my favorite food,” he had said with a laugh.

The ramen is hot and steaming, smelling delightfully of meat and spices. Though she had never really grown up on ramen, classic or the instant that she had become so familiar with while living on her own, it made her feel warm inside, like she was home.

“So,” Naruto says in between slurps of ramen, “do you finally know what you want for your birthday?”

They had talked about the idea of him giving her a free tattoo for her birthday. But she hadn’t known what she wanted, and it was important enough that they wanted to wait until she had figured it out.

“Yeah,” she responds. “My sister’s birthday, on my wrist.”

She was glad she had chosen a profession where she didn’t have to worry about keeping things like tattoos and piercings hidden, though she doubted she would ever have as many as Naruto and Sasuke — or even Sakura, who _did_ have to hide all of hers.

“Ok, sure, sure,” he says. “You choose a font and text it to me and I’ll have it ready. When do you want to do it?”

“Well, Monday’s and Wednesday’s my last class is my English class, which ends at about five. And Tuesday’s and Thursday’s my last class is my sculpture studio, which ends at three-thirty. So Tuesday or Thursday, probably.”

“Sure, sure,” Naruto replies. “So, I do have a deal for you.”

“A deal? Are you some kind of demon now? A free tattoo for my soul?”

“You need to stop hanging around the boys so much,” he laughs, elbowing Hinata playfully. “They’re making you way too sassy. Your comebacks are just too witty for my gentle heart!”

“Oh no, not your gentle heart!” she says, faking a swoon.

“Anyway,” he says, getting them back to the topic at hand. “I’ll do the tattoo you want, and then I’d like to do one on you that I create.”

That stops Hinata. She’s not too ready to let go of the reins on that yet — something she doesn’t know, that _she_ doesn’t create on her body? Forever? Permanently?

“That depends,” she says. “What is it?”

Naruto shifts over to pull a piece of paper out of his back pocket — heavy, all-purpose media stock paper. A texture she knows very, very well. He unfolds it and carefully flattens it out in front of her, making sure it doesn’t touch anything sticky or wet.

It’s a lily, painted in watercolor and outlined in black ink. She’s always loved watercolors and thought that they were beautiful, but she could never get the technique behind them. They went everywhere far too easily, and she could never control the spread enough to get the image she wanted. It had a really beautiful — skillful, she could say — progression of colors, from a deep violet at the petal bases to a soft lavender at the delicate tips, with a deep black outline of the entire piece.

  
“Wow,” she whispers. 

He’s not sure if she’s said anything at all above the clamor of the restaurant. Naruto shuffles around nervously in his stool, waiting for her to respond. “So?” he asks, impatient. “What do you think?”

“Oh!” she stutters, startled. “Oh, oh my gosh, I love it. It’s absolutely beautiful. I love the delicacy of the colors, how they progress! I love how the lines don’t perfectly match up with the colors, how they’re a little outside the lines or don’t fill it up—”

He smiles as he listens to her critique his art piece, though her only suggestions are little things, small preferences that they differ in. And though it is his piece, it’s _her_ tattoo and he is happy to change whatever she wants. She loves it aside from the few flaws and that’s what is important to him. It warms his heart that she loves his art — that she wants it permanently inked on her body.

“It’s a date,” he says, pulling her in close and kissing her temple.

Despite that they’ve been dating for several months now, she still blushes with a flustered laugh and bites her lip.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

 

Spring semester was in full swing, and thankfully, this semester was a lot more pleasant to Hinata than fall semester had been. First of all, no more biology! It was a dreaded class, but her science elective had been fulfilled. More art classes, and two liberal studies electives she actually would _enjoy._  

Kurenai Yuhi had been Hinata professor for several painting courses now — she was her favorite, despite that Kurenai preferred watercolor emphasis over oil or acrylic, but Hinata would never become a better artist without a bit of a challenge. Kurenai had gotten to know her over those courses, and she began to insist in the last semester that Hinata call her by her first name in private.

Kurenai usually personally critiqued all of Hinata’s work — whether it was for class or pleasure. She was the first opinion Hinata trusted.

“Hey, Kurenai, I had a question.”

“What’s up, Hinata?” The woman asks, looking up with her striking hazel eyes.

“I’m actually looking to sell some of my work. Maybe get a few artists together at a local shop or restaurant, hold an auction or just sell some, get some money out of it. I have so many paintings I can’t give them away fast enough, and I’m a little short on rent.” A small lie. The first of many, she was sure. “Do you know of any places that might do that? Anyone who might be interested to group up with me?”

Kurenai looks at her with an appalled look. “No, no, you need to start selling your art in professional auctions. Not some scrapped together yard sale.”

Hinata blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Look, here’s the truth,” Kurenai says, leaning to sit on her stool. “Your art? It’s good enough to go professional. You should start making a name for yourself. It’s time.”

Hinata is still gaping at her, trying to stutter out her shock, as the older woman rifles through a stack of papers in a shelf below her studio desk, before pulling out a business card from near the bottom.

“Call this guy. He runs private, high-end auctions all the time. All you have to do is convince him to include your work. With your skill, it won’t be hard to accomplish. Get your portfolio updated, sweetheart.”

“W-Wow, um, thank you, Kurenai,” Hinata stutters, grasping the business card in careful, delicate hands, despite that the piece of cardstock is already folded at the corners and worn with grime and paint. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for one of my favorite students,” the older woman responds with a kind, warm smile that has always reminded Hinata of her mother. “I’m so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished. You deserve this.”

In the five more hours that Hinata has to sit through, she is absolutely vibrating in her seat.

* * *

 

“Kiba, will you please take me to this meeting?" 

“Why can’t Shino do it?”

“Well, they’re too scrawny,” Hinata replies, using the pronouns that Shino had recently asked everyone to begin referring to them as. “No offense — and I kind of want a big scary bodyguard. I don’t know what this meeting is going to be like.”

“I thought your professor gave you this card! Why do you need a bodyguard anyway? It’s just a meeting with some dude.”

Even Ino turns her head from across the room to glare at him.

“Darling,” she says with a biting, terrifying sneer that immediately makes her boyfriend cringe.

A moment of silence. “Oh. That’s why. Okay, yeah. Let me get my shoes and jacket.”

They all roll their eyes for minute at Kiba’s obliviousness. Though, with the way he had grown up, sometimes he forgot that the women around him wanted the protection of a tall, muscular man. His sisters and mom had always made it very clear to him that they never needed protecting, and to even _think_ that they did was insulting. Despite their reactions, he knew they meant it with a teasing nudge.

  
After they turned onto Third Street, the road there was long and turned to dirt. They passed several fields that, judging by the dark color of the snow, probably didn’t have any grass when the weather was fair. They passed by several barns — chained up, abandoned, which made Hinata raise an eyebrow. Why would there be barns in an area where the ground didn’t keep? 

Kiba’s Jeep shudders to a halt in front of a large, old country-style house. The outside paint is peeling, snow dripping onto the wooden planks that make up the front porch. The steps creak as the two of them clambor up, careful not to slip. Hinata clutches her portfolio awkwardly under her arm, and knocks. As she hears footsteps approach, she nervously fixes her hair and wrings her hands.

A small man with platinum hair dyed silver answers the door, keeping the screen shut for now. He’s guarded, she can see — his posture is tense, as if he’s expecting the worse. She wonders why.

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Hinata Hyuuga, I had a meeting with a...Mr. Otogaka? I’m interested in selling my works in his auction.”

The young man’s golden eyes brighten up, and he instantly forms his face into a practiced smile. “Ah, yes, of course. Do come in. My name is Kabuto, I am Mr. Otogaka’s caretaker.”

“Is he sickly?” she asked, as she stepped inside.

“Oh, just getting to that age,” Kabuto replies, ushering them into a sitting room that was made for consultations. Spacious, but obviously uncomfortable chairs and loveseats filled the room, all of the seating facing the middle, where there was a polished oak coffee table. “Please, take a seat. He’ll be up very shortly.”

Hinata takes her time looking around. The upholstery is all simple — black, leather or vinyl, despite how terribly it clashes with the ash-colored wood that makes up the upholstery. She noticed that in the hallway, all the wallpaper was peeling, the shelves and frames coated with dust, but this room was immaculate. Perfectly arranged, freshly mopped, and brightly lit.

The walls have great pieces of art hanging on them — all household names, and from the look of it, originals she had never seen before. She hisses at Kiba at one point, who had reached out to brush his fingers across a canvas.

“Don’t do that in front of me!” she whispers. “Have some respect.”

He rolls his eyes at her, but obeys regardless.

They turn their heads as they hear scuffling, and Kabuto is accompanying an older man into the sitting room. The older man has a tight face, despite his aged hands, thick with calluses. Had he been a painter, too, perhaps? Hinata wonders. His sleek black hair falls over his shoulders, covering the deep purple silk of the kimono he wears.

“Hello,” the man says, in a gravelly voice, telling of his age, smiling up at her. He reaches out to shake her hand. His grip is weak. “Miss Hyuuga, it’s a pleasure.”

“Yes, you as well.”

His bright eyes flicker over to her companion, standing tall at her side, arms crossed. “And who is this? Your…boyfriend perhaps?”

She sees Kiba open her mouth, about to laugh and say no, but she gets in a word first. “Yes, he is. This is Kiba, he wanted to come along and see what I do.”

She’s not sure if it’s suspicion that glints in Mr. Otogaka’s eyes, or something else, but it makes her skin crawl. “Well, what a gentleman. Please, please, sit.”

Hinata sits in a plush, cold leather armchair, directly across from Mr. Otogaka who sits in an elegant dining chair. She pulls her portfolio out from under her arm and places it on the coffee table between them, pushes it towards him to encourage him to flip through it himself.

“This is the most recent collection of my portfolio. I have a lot more paintings than are included in this, of course, but this is just an overview. All of them are on canvas, either oil or acrylic. The few at the beginning are the oldest I still have, from maybe a year ago. Everything else I still have is new, within the last five months. Most of them are from pieces I was required to do for my art degree, but some of them are for pleasure.”

She nervously watches him flip wordlessly through the plastic folder, until his eyes stop on a portrait. He looks up at her with curious eyes, a glinting smile unfolding.

“Oh, this one is just beautiful. I like your nature pieces, and still life, yes, but this portrait is just marvelous.”

She blushes and wrings her sweaty hands together. “Thank you! That’s a…um, an original character I’ve done for some animation classes, and I’ve done quite a few studies on him. I’ve gotten quite attached to him.”

“Why, yes, you have,” he murmurs, flipping through dozens of portraits of the same bright, breathless smile of the love of her life with what was almost a delighted hum.

He spends a few more minutes perusing the rest of her portfolio, before flipping the back over and pushes it back to her across the coffee table.

“Well, Miss Hyuuga,” he says, and the second that he pauses is the most heart-wrenching, anxious moment of her life, “I would be thrilled to include you in my auction.”

She gasps, grinning ear to ear, and Kiba squeezes her shoulder. “Wow, thank you so much.”

“Of course, since you’re a novice, and you’re in school, we have to start your pieces at a little less than normal. Nothing due to skill, just a formality. Once you’ve been in a few auctions, your price will go up. Your pieces will start at four-hundred dollars each, which I know is a little cheap, but my clientele have very specific tastes. They won’t pay too much for an artist until they’ve heard of them. Sound good?”

Hinata almost chokes on her tongue in her mouth. Four hundred dollars? Each? To _start_? Holy _shit_!

“Yes, yes, that’s fine! That’s totally okay! That’s fantastic.”

Mr. Otogaka smiles, and his lips seem to split his cheeks open. “Splendid. I will need about…fifteen pieces of yours for this month’s auctions. I will call you with details very soon.”

“Um, yes, yes, of course.” There is so much good news here that Hinata is stumbling all over herself, her heart thudding in her chest and hands shaking in her lap. “When do I need them ready by?”

“The twentieth,” he replies, slowly rising to his feet. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I hope we can do great business in the future.”

“Yes, yes, I do, too,” Hinata says, standing up to shake his hand one more time, a little more excited than the first time. “I will be waiting for your call.”

Kabuto escorts her and Kiba to the door, while the older man trailed behind them slowly, headed for the staircase at the end of the hall.

“Oh, and dear,” he says, right before the pair are about to exit, coats pulled on. “Do include several paintings of that…original character of yours. I have a feeling he’ll be _very_ popular.”

“Yes, of course,” she replies.

The ride home is dark, the sun having set as they were in Mr. Otogaka’s home. Only the obnoxious LED of the Jeep’s headlights brighten the dirt road on their path home. The car is oddly quiet.

She has a bad feeling, and she’s not sure why.

 _Probably nothing_ , she says to herself. _It’s probably nothing_.


	12. the wind does blow against the grain

Hinata breathes in, trying to calm her nerves. She’s memorized everything about this room — the strong scent of fresh wood, mixed in with a metallic tang she couldn’t place. She knows every scratch in the hardwood floor, and has become so familiar with the sound of the tattoo gun buzzing it is like a low hum in her ear. All of these things should be comforting her, soothing her mind with the familiarity.

Then again, she’s never been the one _in_ the chair before.

The purple stencil stains her wrist, delicately placed onto a sterile armrest, while Naruto begins to get the ink ready. He buzzes the gun on and off, all part of his routine. Every time she hears it, it’s like a gunshot to her stomach, which is rolling like the ocean inside of her.

“Alright baby, you ready?” He turns with a grin, which quickly falls once he gets a good look at her. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Hinata mumbles, trying with all of her might _not_ to throw up in front of her boyfriend. “Can we please just get this over with?”

Naruto sighs, taking a seat in front of her. “You know that your body is just anticipating for something way worse than it actually is, right?”

Hinata mumbles an affirmative.

“You know that it really is just a dull pain, and your wrist is pretty low on the pain scale, right?”

“Yes,” she groans, “can we please just start? So my body can stop making me feel like I’m detoxing off a week long drug binge?”

Naruto snickers, revving up the gun again. “How do you know what that’s like?”

She chooses not to answer in words, instead focusing on meditating. Her breathing exercises can get her so far in mind, she knows, but they work enough to keep her in the present. Naruto has told her hundreds of times that the minds plays up what the pain will be before the first one. A defense mechanism, he says. She knows he’s right, and that it’s logical — after all, he was about to be poking her skin with several needles hundreds of times, creating a huge, irregular open wound. It would make sense the mind would do all it could to try to _not_ make that happen.

She’s seen it first-hand, plenty of times. Someone ready to scream for their first tattoo, cringing and tensed up. But as soon as the needle touches their skin, their entire body relaxes and they go, “Oh, okay.”

She’s so focused on her breathing she doesn’t realize that Naruto is about to begin tattooing her until he murmurs, “Breathe, babe. You’ll be okay.”

Hinata tenses up, taking staggering breaths despite his encouragement and her personal pride. The buzz rings in her ears like a thunderstorm, and the needle finally breaks her skin.

_Oh. Okay._

Hinata lets out a sigh of relief, her entire body relaxing as Naruto pulls across her skin to match with the purple stencil. He smirks, his eyebrow stud glinting in the light overhead. “Not that bad, right?”

She nods, embarrassed. “Not that bad.”

“Told ya.”

“I believed you,” she shoots back playfully, “but my self-preservation tried to win me out.”

The rest of the tattoo session is done in silence, which isn’t long. It’s only a couple letters, less than three inches. But she gazes at Naruto, who is so encapsulated in his work he doesn’t notice — like he’d mind. She’s never seen him from this perspective before, in front of her as he works on _her_ skin. Somehow, it’s even more beautiful, despite that everything is the same. His right eyebrow is furrowed in concentration, his tongue sticking slightly out to peek at his upper lip. An expression she’s studied countless times, but this time his attention is on her skin, on her body, on _her_ art.

It takes a total of maybe another minute and a half, before he sets the gun down and begins wiping her skin off with a cloth poured with something cool and soothing.

“Alright, babe. Check it out.”

Hinata turns her left wrist, the black type-set elegantly reading “Mar 26” across her skin. It’s tender, she notices, and she’ll have to be especially careful in art classes for the next few weeks. She knows the care routine, after having heard her boyfriend rattle it off probably hundreds of times. She smiles, before wrapping her arms around Naruto.

“I love it,” she murmurs into his ear, kissing him. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

Hinata hums quietly to herself as she sketches, her other hand propping up her head. She usually prefers to sketch at a table or an easel — somewhere with a hard surface — but she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. Naruto had a _remarkably_ comfortable mattress, some strange but delightful mixture between pillow top and memory foam. 

She hoped she could make this sketch into another full portrait, hopefully to sell at the auction this weekend. She was due for her pieces in a few days, and she would like to include at least one new painting in addition to her older ones. She wanted to make sure she drew out her perspective from today before it became muddled from the fuzziness of long-term memory.

Naruto steps out of the bathroom, steam pouring from the cracks in the door, a towel draped haphazardly around his waist. Hinata immediately turns her head with an appreciative gaze at the sight before her, almost dreamily inhaling the fresh smell of soap that rolls off of him.

“You could join me next time,” he murmurs in her ear, kissing the top of her head as he passes.

“I know,” she sighs. “But I had to sketch this out before I forgot.”

“Can I see?” he asks, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers.

“Not until it’s finished,” Hinata chastises. “You know the rules.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gives her a playful pout. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

She laughs, closing her sketchbook and cuddling up to his bare chest. She gives him an apologetic kiss, before a _brilliant_ idea runs through her brain. “You know what I _can_ show you?”

Naruto raises an eyebrow, and she grins as she gets up to run through her portfolio, pulling out several large, heavy cardstock papers. She hands them to him, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through her.

“What is it?” he asks absentmindedly, taking it from her.

“Can’t you tell?” she asks quietly, sidling back up next to him. “It’s how we met. It’s the storyboard.”

Naruto releases a quiet breath, surprised. He almost forgot about the storyboard — so much has happened since this, despite only being a few mere months.

She gets up and kisses him on the forehead. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

He assumes it’s to give him some privacy while he looks at this very intimate thing, but also maybe to ease their anxieties so she doesn’t have to watch his reactions as he looks.

The style is simple and rough, but only what would be expected of a storyboard. There isn’t much color, only where she thought symbolically important.

He can see the bright flash of the orange of the kitsune on his chest, stylized as a fox with sparkling eyes in her storyboard.

He sees Jiraiya there too, not as a perfect representation of himself, but as a kind, elderly figure who helps the boy.

It’s perfect, and nostalgic. He hadn’t really thought about his tattoos much in the last five years, aside from retelling Hinata. Even then, he had been much more focused on her perfect skin, and her silky hair, and her bright, flirty eyes. His mind hadn’t been entirely on the topic at hand.

He almost bites back a tear. He misses when it was simpler — not that life had really even been simple for him. But he misses when he never had to worry about the bigger picture. _Just have to make this shot_ or _Just have to beat Sasuke_ , not _If I kill him, who will I piss off_? He misses not having to worry about the life of another human who couldn’t defend herself.

But as he stares at her, stark and toweling off her dripping hair as she steps back into the bedroom, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

Naruto sighs, nuzzling further into her sweaty neck, his arm tightening at her waist. “I have to go on a mission this weekend." 

He can feel her freeze, every muscle tensing up. He can’t see her face, but he can imagine.

“Oh.”

That’s never a good reaction.

“It’s a simple one,” he assures, rubbing the soft skin where her waist dipped. “It’ll be quick. Not like some other ones. But I wanted to tell ya that I’ll be gone. I won’t be able to bring my phone.”

“Okay,” she whispers, but he can almost hear the tears welling at her eyes.

As Naruto tucks her head underneath his chin, he curses himself. He knew it would get like this as soon as she knew.

“I know it’s tough, babe,” he murmurs. “I know. But I’ll be okay. I’ve been doing this since I could walk. It’s second nature to me. I’ve never come home with anything worse than a few stitches. You’ll be my first call once I’m home.”

There is a still silence, one that is stifling in the dark of the room.

“Promise?” she asks, her quiet voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise.”

* * *

 

Hinata pulls her arm straight across her chest, relishing the familiar feeling of a tight stretch. It had been a while since she had stretched any muscles other than to prevent carpal tunnel. Her legs felt especially taut — she did plenty of moving during the day at work, but that didn’t require much flexibility. She let Naruto lead this stretch, let him explain to her all the muscles they were working and why it was important to stretch them. Hinata feigns clumsiness as she bends for a stretch she’s done perhaps thousands of times. 

The only way she’s been able to keep a straight face through all of this has been by focusing on the bittersweet pull of her muscles. Stretching used to be a frequent part of her daily routine growing up — once in the morning after breakfast and a shower, a quick one after her workout in the dojo, and once more right before bed. Stretching always centered her and cleared her mind, whether it was to begin her day or end it.

Hinata still stretched daily for a time even after getting kicked out of the house. It was one of the few things that kept her from killing herself, even during the midst of the worst of the resulting depression. But eventually, life got in the way. She got too busy with school and work, and eventually sleep became more important than mindfulness.

She still stretches every so often, during anxiety attacks where the thoughts swirling around in her head threaten to fill her lungs and suffocate her. Those moments come less often now.

 _I need to stretch regularly again_ , she thinks to herself, wincing against a tight pull. _This should be easy_.

“Alright,” Naruto says, rolling his shoulder with a _pop_ as they push themselves up off the floor. “We’re gonna start with some really basic maneuvers, okay?”

Hinata hums in agreement, barely biting back a smug grin.

All the furniture in his living room has been pushed to the sides to give them as much room as possible to work. A blanket was thrown over his glass coffee table, and all of the picture frames had been taken off the walls and temporarily stored in the bedroom. There were no mats to cover the hardwood and cushion a fall, though she should have expected that. There would be no cushioning in the real world, after all.

They go through some basic dodging exercises first. Hinata doesn’t have to pretend to be clumsy at this. Her reaction times had definitely slowed from lack of practice.

“If you can dodge, always dodge,” Naruto explains, settling back into his mock offensive stance. “No sense putting yourself in proximity of them if ya don’t have to.”

Hinata nodded, going through the movements. Every so often he critiques her — “Turn your heel this way, it leaves you less open” or “Don’t put your hands down until you know you won’t need to defend yourself again.”

It was critiques that she wasn’t used to. Her father always spat out quick, scathing bites — “Sloppy, again” and “Unacceptable, again” or “Horrific form” — that were truly designed to simply remind her of her place rather than help her improve. Neji had been kinder, more analytical with his feedback during training. But no one had been as gentle and patient with her as Naruto was being.

It almost made her feel bad that she was going to kick his ass.

Almost.

“Kay,” he says, moving around to the back of her. “Now, I’m gonna show you what to do if someone comes up behind you. For the purpose of this exercise, it’d be best if I mimicked choking you, but if you’re not comfortable with that, I can improvise.”

“Mm, no, that’s fine,” Hinata replies. “You’re not _actually_ gonna choke me though, right?”

“No,” Naruto chuckles, gently brushing a piece of her hair back behind her ear, kissing the base of her neck. “My hands will be on your neck, but I’m not gonna put any pressure down.”

Hinata nods. “Okay, I’m ready to start.”

Naruto gently brings his arm around to cradle her neck in the crook of his elbow. “This is the most likely way someone will choke you if they come up behind you.” He taps her shoulder and lets her feel as his fingers interlock to form a tight vice. “They might lock their hands like this, if you making you pass out is the goal and they don’t have another weapon.”

Hinata nods, despite a shiver passing through her at the thought of another weapon.

“If you notice it quick enough, you can put your hands in between your next and their arm for extra control. It’ll help you get just a few more inches of breathing space.”

He has her practice that a few times before he feels satisfied enough to continue the exercise.

“So the best way to counteract this is for you to throw off their balance, especially since you’re so short. You’re gonna place your right hand on my bicep, and grip it really tight — yeah, that’s good. Then you’re gonna squat, pressing your ass into my hips, and tuck your head. Then ideally, you can pull me with that hand and I’ll roll over you. That’ll land me on my back, get the wind knocked outta me, and give you a chance to run away.”

Hinata smiles, knowing he can’t see it.

“So we’ll try this but don’t get too upset if you can’t flip me yet. I’m a heavy dude, and I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

“Mmkay,” Hinata replies, innocently nodding up at him with her big doe eyes. “I’ll try.”

Naruto’s arm comes around to grip at her and as soon as she catches sight of it within her peripheral, she grips his bicep. Impossibly fast, she ducks to let him roll off her and slams in him into the hardwood with her momentum. She flips around while his vision is still fuzzy to press a knee into his chest and mock a blade against his throat.

He blinks up at her for half a moment, and she thinks she has him, a cocky grin spreading across her face — before he flips them back over, pressing her cheek uncomfortably into the ground and twisting her arms up behind her back. Hinata cries out in surprise and a bit of pain, and he immediately releases her. She exhales and flops her arms onto the cool floor beneath her, laughing.

“Did I have you fooled even for a second?” she asks, turning over to prop herself up on a forearm.

His bright eyes twinkle with mischief as he grins as her. “Oh, for a second,” he replies, “but I’m trained to expect the unexpected.”

“Couldn’t have just let me one-up you just this once, huh?”

“I might’ve,” he says. “If you hadn’t tried t’ pin me. I kept telling you not to engage if you didn’t have to.”

Hinata smiles sheepishly. “Fair enough.”

Naruto just throws his head back and lets out a full laugh, before pulling her onto his lap and beginning to nibble at her neck. “You did surprise me though, and I gotta say it’s pretty hot to get my ass kicked by my girlfriend,” he murmurs. He presses his hips into hers, making sure that she can feel him slowly hardening through the thin layer of her leggings. “Though maybe I’ll need to teach you a lesson for trying to get smart on me.”

Hinata raised her eyebrow, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Teach me a lesson, huh? What kind of lesson?”


	13. it's a different kind of danger

Hinata shivers as she steps outside, the brisk air blanketing a chill over her exposed shoulders. She had borrowed a formal dress from Ino — long and slinky, it covered up her legs but the halter top had left her shoulders and upper back bare. She wouldn’t be out in the cold much, so she doesn’t mind foregoing a jacket.

Her pieces had already long been delivered in anticipation for the event. Hinata tries to calm her fluttering heart in her chest, though to no avail.

“Bye, babe,” Kiba calls, before giving Ino a quick kiss. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Thanks for letting me borrow him for the night,” Hinata says, giving her friend a small smile.

“Anything for you, darling,” Ino replied with a wink. “I’m just glad he’ll keep you safe.”

The Jeep rumbles to life as they set off to the auction. It wasn’t being held at the farmhouse that she had originally met Mr. Otogaka at, but rather at another home on the edge of town. Briefly, Hinata wonders why it’s not held in a ballroom at the convention center, but quickly waves this thought away.

Pulling up, both Kiba and Hinata gape at the size of the “house” that they arrive at. _Mansion_ was really a more accurate description for it. Just from the driveway, Hinata can see at least a dozen floor-to-ceiling windows trimmed with a crisp white paint, and at least thirty of some of the most expensive cars she’s ever seen lining the enormous driveway. She feels horrifically inadequate as she steps out into the cool night and they hand the keys to a valet.

“You’re drooling,” Hinata notes with an amused tone, tucking her arm into Kiba’s.

“These cars are just so beautiful,” he whines, straightening up a little at the well-hearted jab. 

Hinata knows he is uncomfortable in the tuxedo. Honestly, she doesn’t even know why he had one on hand in the first place, but she isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As they make their way up to the huge double doors, he pulls at the collar, which sits tight against his neck.

“Thank you,” she murmurs to him, feeling impossibly guilty.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he says, “and if that means prancing around in a monkey suit for a few hours, so be it.”

A little bit of warmth blossoms in her chest, despite the chill outside.

She’s not used to people genuinely caring about her, despite that she had left home years ago. It took a long time to get used to an emotional environment that wasn’t toxic, despite all the therapy. But she allows herself this moment.

They approach an usher who is posted at the door. Although he is dressed in a tuxedo of his own and holds a pleasantly fake smile, Hinata can see the rippling muscles beneath the fabric. He is undoubtedly security — but why would they need hired muscle? Hinata frowns at this thought briefly.

“Name?” the usher asks in a gruff voice, staring them both up and down.

“Hinata Hyuuga and Kiba Inuzuka,” she replied. “I’m a featured artist tonight and he is my plus one.”

The usher briefly scans his list before stepping aside and pulling open one of the massive double doors for them. “Welcome, please enjoy your night.”

The ceiling’s in the foyer are impossibly tall, towering above them with twinkling light from the delicate crystal chandeliers that dangle overhead. There is soft orchestral music that floats through the halls, just audible over the white noise of seamless chatter. Waiters walk though, carrying flutes of champagne and platters of hors d’oeuvres. It was all so extravagant that Hinata finds herself in a wide-eyes, open-mouthed stare.

“Fucking score,” Kiba mutters, plucking a flute from a water and slamming it down immediately.

“Chugging champagne isn’t very classy of you,” Hinata chastises him with a smirk.

“Just needed something for the nerves.”

“And I’m sure a swig of six percent alcohol will do that.”

Though, if she’s being honest with herself, Hinata could use one for nerves as well. Or seven. But she delicately sips on her champagne, despite her shaking hands and stomach full of butterflies. For a moment, she worries that she has gotten far too out of her league and _Oh God, what on earth was I thinking?_

“Miss Hyuuga,” a lilted voice calls, and she turns to find Mr. Otagaka greeting her, Kabuto at his side. He reaches for her free hand and kisses her knuckle. “You look absolutely decadent this evening.”

“Thank you,” Hinata replies, ignoring the way her skin crawls at his touch. “You both look handsome tonight.”

 _Handsome_ wasn’t the word she would use if she was being honest, but she knew pleasantries were an important facet in the high art world. They certainly look dapper — Mr. Otogaka donning an eccentric royal purple tuxedo, his long hair pulled into a loose but elegant braid that sits on his shoulder. Kabuto’s suit is plain, but his tie is printed into a paisley adorned with gold thread that shines in the twinkling lights above them.

“Please feel free to roam,” Mr. Otogaka says, gesturing around. “The auction will begin in forty-five minutes. There is plenty of entertainment to hold you off until then.”

“Thank you,” she says with a gracious smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Believe me, darling,” he says, smiling wide, “we are waiting with baited breath for your pieces tonight.”

* * *

 

The temperature here was at least ten degrees cooler than home, and Naruto’s breath comes out like dragon smoke as he shivers in place. He hates stake-outs in the winter. All he was permitted was a silent, black cotton hoodie that did absolutely nothing to block out the chill that creeps straight through to his bones.

Normally, he would pass the time like this by cleaning his guns. The satisfying clicks as he expertly takes them apart and puts them back together is usually enough to keep his mind off the chill. But he’s not stationed in a safe house an appropriate distance away — he’s perched at the top of a hill out in the open. It’s necessary to remain quiet, especially when the blanket of snow seem to still all life around him. It’s eerily silent, the only sounds are echoes of snow crunching beneath the boots of men below him as they round the perimeter.

“Guard change in fifteen,” Naruto murmurs. “You should move then.”

The comm crackles to life, Sasuke’s voice in his ear. “Understood. You still covering from your sniper’s nest?”

“Yep.”

Naruto’s bones itched for a fight, to feel flesh give beneath his hands and bones crack underneath his grip — but he knows his place. He focuses on watching the guards through his scope, as he lays completely still in snow. He commits their faces to memory; good intel was worth money, too.

He watches as the guards pace, before retreating into the warmth of a side door, obnoxious laughter consumed by the thick blankets of snow.

“Now.”

He watches Sasuke and Shikamaru creep into the warehouse out of the corner of his eye, scope trained on the side door. In the silence, Shikamaru’s quick tinkering of the locks sounds like fireworks. It takes a moment longer than normal, but they finally slip into the compound without another sound.

Naruto lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He relaxes, breathing slowly returning back to normal as he waits for the guard to return.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

 _Fuck_. “Something’s wrong,” he murmurs into the mic.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, his stomach dropping. He quickly rolls to his feet to find a man with a pistol trained on him.

“Naruto Uzumaki,” the man says in a monotone. “I’m surprised they decided to send you. Not very strategic.”

Naruto shrugs. “Strategy was never my strong suit.”

“Clearly.”

The comm crackles to life in his ear, explosions through the line that make his ear ring.

“Trap,” is all Sasuke says. It’s enough.

The should have figured it was regardless, should have planned for it. Their guard rotations were too predictable. Their entries weren’t secure enough.

 _Stupid_ , Naruto thinks to himself, gritting his teeth.

It’s hard to make out exactly what the man in front of him looked like. It was dark, and the snow absorbed any light that reached them up on the hill. Naruto could tell he had black hair that would have hung in his eyes, if it wasn’t delicately clipped back by his ear. Naruto could tell his skin was almost as white as the snow around them. And Naruto could tell that he had dark, unflinching eyes that betrayed no emotion.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit_.

* * *

 

Hinata was nervous. She was so completely and utterly out of her league. The pair had taken a seat in plush leather chairs in the back of a dozen rows, all centered on a raised platform holding a podium and an easel. Hinata’s hands were beginning to get clammy from clutching at Kiba’s, but it was the only way to calm her heart that was frantically beating in her chest 

“Breathe, Nata,” Kiba’s cool voice murmurs in her ear.

Hinata tries. She tries the relaxation exercises that had gotten her through dozens of panic attacks. Tries to imagine the koi pond in the back of the dojo, and the way it shimmered in the sunlight. Tries to imagine the trickle as the rainwater dripped off the roof into the pond. Tries to imagine her and Hanabi’s giggles as the koi nibbled at the toes they dipped in the cool water, perched on rocks warm from the sun.

The chatter around her was too loud and penetrating to allow her to relax fully into her memories. But it works well enough, she supposes. The butterflies, still in her stomach, only delicately flutter their wings instead of panicking inside her, and the cold sweat that was running down her back cools a little. She squeezes Kiba’s hand one last time before resting it in her own lap, resisting the urge to wring her hands.

She isn’t entirely aware of the auctioneer introducing himself, a character surprisingly dull for his occupation. But she sucks in a sharp breath when she sees the first of her pieces being wheeled out.

It had been placed in a frame for ease of handling, to keep the staff’s oils and dirt off the canvas. It was one of Naruto, warm and outlining the rippling muscles between deep swirls of multi-colored ink. She remembers affectionately painting each shadow of his biceps, every freckle on his shoulders, and the details of his face, which was portrayed with a devious smile and glinting eyes.

Hinata wasn’t sure if the room had gone silent, or if she just couldn’t hear the chattering above her own heart thudding in her ears.

“Our first collection is from a young new artist specializing in acrylics and portraiture. This piece is titled ‘Aurora.’ We will be starting the bidding at five hundred.

The moment of silence that follows is deafening, blood rushing through her so fast she was sure she would faint.

The room bursts into a cacophony, bid after bid being called. Hinata chokes in a breath, terrified for a moment she was about to puke.

It continues until the auctioneer — who had developed the bombastic personality Hinata had assumed of him — cries, “Sold! For five thousand and two hundred dollar!”

Hinata’s eyes widen and she grips Kiba’s arm tightly.

“Did that really just happen?” she gasps out, turning to stare at him shakily. “Did one of _my_ painting just sell for _five thousand_ fucking dollars?”

* * *

 

Naruto wills his heart to slow down as he stares into the barrel of the pistol. 

_Think. Fuck, think._

“This would have been a great trap,” Naruto drawls, before he is cut off.

“Oh, I think it was. Look where I have you.” The eyes he meets remain steady, giving nothing away. His voice betrays no emotion.

 _Figures_ , Naruto thinks. He was specially trained to read miniscule changes in body language, to analyze every inflection in someone’s tone. Of _course_ they would send a robot after him.

“What’s your name?” Naruto asks. “You know mine. Only fair I know yours.”

It was courtesy, even in this business. Especially since he seemed so sure he would kill Naruto.

“Sai.”

He would keep that in mind, then.

Another explosion rocks the ground below them, shifting heavy clumps of snow off the branches of pine tree spires. For a moment, Sai’s eyes flicker to the left, just behind Naruto’s head. In a flash, Naruto kicks at Sai’s wrist to send the pistol flying, landing somewhere in the snow behind him. Naruto wrestles Sai to the ground, the man’s lithe form fighting underneath him. Naruto has him shoulder checked, but it’s hard to gain proper advantage in the plush snow.

Sai growls and jerks his head forward blindly in a headbutt, and Naruto curses as pain erupts on his browline. Naruto tries to grab his wrists, but Sai grips his teeth and claps his hands around Naruto’s ear, causing them to ring as the world went sideways. Blood from his forehead drips into Sai’s eyes, causing him to blearily try to blink it away. It allows Naruto enough of an advantage to pull his own pistol out of his waistband and hammer it into Sai’s temple.

Sai stills beneath him, body going limp and sinking further into the soft powder. Blood drips from his skull into the snow beneath him, the deep red a dark contrast to the boy’s pale lips and eyelids. Naruto scrambles up off of him, struggling to find purchase and balance now that his equilibrium has been knocked off kilter. He tumbles a little down the hill but finally stabilizes when he reaches the door that his team had entered in.

“On my way in, where do you need me?”

“Finally, what fucking took you so long?”

“Had a friend of my own.”

Naruto is thankful for the comforting weight of the pistol in his hand, as he peers down the corridors trying to pinpoint where the firefight is. The explosions echo through the bleak cement walls, confusing him even further.

“Status?” he says.

“Two lefts and a right,” Shikamaru replies with a grunt and crackled sounds of discord. “Take ‘em out from behind. We’re pinned down here.”

Naruto follows the path their strategist had given him, long and stark white walls turned a mottled gray from dirty hands and who knows what else. Flourescent LED lights buzz overhead, and Naruto tried to make a point not to focus on them so hard. His head is still pounding from being hit, and the lights don’t make it any better.

He rounds the corner as silently as possible, pulling the sniper stationed next to the door away from his rifle. The man starts to struggle, mouth opening to cry for help, but Naruto quickly places a hand over his mouth and plants a dagger in his throat. Naruto’s lucky that he pulled the man into the hallway — the spray of blood the erupts as Naruto pulls the blade out surely would have attracted some attention.

He peers out the doorway leading to the large open warehouse room the firefight is in. All of his team are taking wild potshots from where they were pinned down behind cover.

 _No wonder they needed me_ , Naruto thought, silently slinking to his right. _They can’t get any well-aimed shots in like this._

Naruto knows he’ll catch the attention of whoever he doesn’t take out with these two, stationed at opposing sides. It was like the last two side pins while bowling. You’re never gonna get a strike unless you were extremely lucky — and the way today was going, he wasn’t going to be. But he could prioritize. He decides to take down the guy with the assault rifle and use it to pin down the other idiot who only had a pistol. The chances of him getting a new bullet hole were drastically reduced this way.

Naruto creeps up on his haunches, trying to ignore the pounding in his head as the gun fires, before springing on his opponent from behind. The thick muscle of the man’s neck locks against the inside of Naruto’s bicep, fingers interlocking into a vice grip. The man struggles, clawing at the hard ridges of Naruto’s muscles as he chokes.

For a second, Naruto is brought back into his living room. And it’s not some unknown enemy he’s choking the life out of.

It’s Hinata.

Her thin fingers, calloused from all her painting, scramble for a grip against him. He hears her whimper and struggle to gasp against his iron grip. Her feet fight to find purchase, her toes sliding across the sleek hardwood, trying desperately to kick him.

Naruto gasps, letting go. His mind races, thoughts swirling in his head like a hurricane. _Oh God, what have I done to her —_

A sharp pain to his left cheek brings him back to reality, before he’s shoved to the floor. His opponent is on top of him, barking out warnings to his friend across the catwalk. In his ear, the comm crackles with curses and gunfire that echoes in his own ears. Naruto ducks his head and delivers a hard elbow to the ribs. His arm tingles with the strike but he fights through it long enough to wrestle his opponent to the ground, face down. With his weight on one hand, he holds his balance by pushing the man’s face into the floor.

Naruto digs out his pistol and shoots.

The body beneath him spasms for a moment and goes slack. Naruto blinks and tries to rub the blood out of his eyes, narrowly scrambling to dodge a shot from the man across the catwalk.

Naruto tries to aim to take him out, too, but he finds the pistol shaking in his hands. There’s a sharp pain in his arm that he hadn’t noticed before, either.

“You guys gotta take him out while he’s focused on me,” Naruto growls into the comm, gritting his teeth. “Can’t aim. Dislocated my shoulder.”

In a flash, Naruto hears more than sees the kill. A sharp boom echoes through the room, followed by a wet splatter of blood and brain bits. The room quiets and stills, echoing only his team’s heavy breathing.

“What the _fuck_ was that, you idiot?” Sasuke yells from across the room.

Naruto sighs.

* * *

 

The auction had passed, and they were now in the polite after party aperitifs portion of the evening. The orchestra had started back up again, playing delightfully dainty shanty’s and the tinkling of champagne glasses once again fills the rooms. 

Hinata was still shell shocked. Her paintings had managed to sell for over thirty _thousand_ dollars. She would keep about twenty of that, after Mr. Otogaka had taken his cut, but that was still more money than she ever had at once in her life. It was more than she makes in a _year_ at the coffee shop.

Her portraits had sold for higher than anything else, which she expected. It was her specialty, after all. Plus, it didn’t help that she tends to put more effort into her portraits than anything else, her perfectionism working perfectly with the level of detail that shading the human body requires. They seem to have fallen in love with the portraits of her sunshine, just as she has with the real thing.

A few of her concept pieces had sold high as well — a painting of Naruto’s large kitsune tattoo emblazoned on the center of his chest. Her landscapes and abstracts had sold the lowest, but still for more money than she ever would have thought.

“Am I on drugs?” she whispers to Kiba, politely smiling at other patrons and sipping her champagne with shaking hands. “I think I’m on drugs.”

“You’re just an amazing artist, and you’re finally getting recognition for it,” he says, remarkably calm.

Hinata tries to breathe in and out, and wonders if maybe chugging an impolite amount of champagne might make this feel any more real.

“Plus, you can basically quit the coffee shop now,” Kiba says. “Hell, you could buy your own house. You’re fucking loaded now, Nata.”

That, of all things, is what brings her back to reality. She had started all this to help Naruto pay off his debt, and get them both to safety. She wants him to stop coming home with stitches, bruises and bullet wounds. Sometimes, at night she traces his scars and wonders what horrible, painful tales are behind each one. The silvery scars are abrupt and drastic against the rich, deep tan of his skin and the color of his tattoos.

They even line the soft, fine hair of his thighs, disrupt the beautiful muscles of his back and his arms. She can’t escape them, and she can’t even fathom the pain they had caused her love.

Hinata is broken out of her reverie by the approach of a quiet man. He looks positively crisp, a deep black suit that is cut to perfectly accentuate his long frame and thin hips. His hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, and though his smile is charming, his eyes look tired and aged.

“Hello,” he says, his voice smooth like silk. “Are you the new artist Mr. Otagaka brought in?”

She nods, a tight and anxious smile playing at her lips as she sips her champagne. “I am.”

He extends a hand. “My name is Itachi Uchiha. Pleased to meet you.”

She takes his hand, noticing how Kiba moved instinctively closer to her. “Hinata Hyuuga.”

His grip is strong, hands calloused in a way she wouldn’t expect of a man who attends these functions. Weren’t they normally rich with nothing to do but laze about and throw money at people? Golden rings and cufflinks glitter off him in the chandelier light, and she continues to feel inadequate.

“Welcome to the business,” he says, giving her a nod. “We do appreciate new talent.”

With that, he stalks off, and she finds herself curling closer into Kiba’s warmth.

“Ten more minutes and we go,” she whispers in his ear. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

* * *

 

He had really fucked up this time. 

He had flipped out during an op because he was worried about hurting Hinata, who was hundreds of miles away. He hadn’t confirmed a kill who had him at gunpoint, and who had scrambled out of the snow and out of sight by the time they had gotten back. He had gotten his shoulder dislocated and was currently getting his forehead stitched up by Sakura in the back of a moving vehicle.

The plane ride back to base was a long and awkward one.

Sasuke was fuming, probably pissed beyond reasonable doubt about all the things that went wrong on the op. He had been the team lead, and they all knew that Tsunade was going to chew him out when they got back to base.

Naruto tried his best to focus on the twinkling lights of the cities below them, picking out patterns. He tuned out Sakura’s incessant voice in his ear, scolding him for his recklessness.

“I know,” he sighs, shrugging her off to curl into his chair. “Let me sleep.”

The adrenaline from the op had worn off now and he was exhausted. Most of his muscles ache, and his shoulder thuds with the beat of his heart. His head is swimming now, pain pills finally starting to take effect and make him feel like he was moving through jello. He could get a good nap in and get a head start on the healing process before he gets his ass handed to him by Tsunade.

Sakura sighs, and even though he can’t see her, he knows she has a frown. But she gets up and sidles besides her boyfriend anyway in the next aisle.

Sleep for Naruto is hazy but deep, with the occasional fitful moment of lucidity during turbulence or awaking from a startling nightmare. The nightmares had become more frequent as of late. He wasn’t sure why.

He blearily rubs his eyes, pulling his bag out from the seat next to him as Sasuke calls to head off the plane. Their private landing strip was lit up just for them, though he knew it would shut off as soon as the plane had been driven back into the hanger. It was still dark, nearly two in the morning from what his phone told him.

Walking into base was always like coming home, despite that it had been almost a decade since the last time he had laid his head down to sleep here. He grew up in these halls, affectionately decorated with “family” photos and tacky wooden siding. The carpet had long been replaced for fake hardwood-styled vinyl, for ease of cleaning.

They’re silent as they shuffle down the long and complicated halls, knowing they’re about to get a lashing the whole base would probably wake up to hear. Tsunade would already be tipsy enough to soften the initial blow at this time of night, but her anger had a tendency of burning through any alcohol in her system in a blink of an eye.

She blearily looks up at the group of soldiers in front of her, before casting a suspicious gaze.

“Uchiha, report.”

Sasuke steps forward, and Naruto can see the exhaustion in the tenseness of his shoulders. _He must not’ve slept on the plane_ , he thinks to himself. _Had to think of what to say._

“The mission was a mixed success,” he says, in perfect military graciousness. Must have gotten it from his dad. “We managed to infiltrate successfully, but it was a trap. We were pinned down in the warehouse waiting on Naruto. Naruto got pinned down in his sniper’s nest. He did not confirm his kill, and his kill got away.” Naruto winces as he feels more than sees Tsunade’s glare. “We scanned the base afterwards, but they took most of what was of value. This is what we recovered.”

Sasuke dexterously slides a manila envelope onto Tsunade’s desk, and she sighs, nodding.

“Injuries?” she asks, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Minor, mostly scrapes and bruises for most of us. Nara got a bullet graze to his arm while we were pinned. Naruto got a dislocated shoulder and needed stitches on his forehead.”

Tsunade nods, and for a moment, Naruto thinks he’s off the hook.

“You can all leave, send me your separate reports.” Before Naruto can even breathe, she locks eyes with him in a glare. “ _You_ get to stay.”

No one shoots him a sympathetic look, all having been on this side of her wrath before. Of course, he’s been on it more often than most. He’s held to a higher standard than anyone else, and he was more reckless than most in an effort to prove himself. He’s used to it, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

The door clicks behind them like a bullet shot and he straightens up, shoulders squared as he looks directly behind her, refusing to meet her eyes.

“So,” she begins slowly, twirling a pencil in her hands, “want to tell me why you decided to be a massive fuck up tonight?”

Naruto grits his teeth. “I just had an off day. I’m not perfect.”

Tsunade barks out a laugh. “You have time to have an off day when you’re not running a fucking op, kid.”

He hates when she calls him that.

“Understood.”

“Here, take a look at this.”

She slides a picture across her desk, and he walks over to pick it up. It’s a vintage polaroid, heavy and thick in his hands. It’s of his parents. He recognizes them from all the other pictures of them plastered around the place, their likeness a distant fog in his own memory. His mom’s bright red hair flies around her face over the deck of a boat, while she smiles, holding him in her arms. He’s just a baby in this picture, just a lick of blonde fluff at the top of a pudgy face.

He looks to Tsunade, meeting her sharp, piercing eyes. “Do you remember what happened to them?”

He nods. They had been shot the week after this picture had been taken. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old. He flips the picture over, and sees a price on it. Their bounties. Crossed out are the words “AVAILABLE."

“This is what happens to people in our line of work, Naruto,” she says softly, pouring a shot of sake for them both. She sets his glass in front of him with a clumsy clatter. “Do your best to keep her out of trouble.”

She gulps down her shot with a sharp breath.

“Can I keep this?” he asks.

Tsunade nods.

Naruto tucks the polaroid in his pocket, tosses his backpack over his shoulder and heads for the door. As the door shuts with a soft click behind him, Tsunade notices he left his glass untouched. She shrugs, and drinks that one, too. It would be another long night.


	14. remember me love, when i'm reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was housed by your warmth  
> but i was transformed  
> by your grounded and giving  
> and darkening scorn
> 
> shrike // hozier

Hinata’s eyes flutter closed, an involuntary moan drawn out of her mouth. Naruto’s hands are warm on her bare thighs, his teeth sharp on her neck. She runs her hands through his hair, nails biting into his scalp. 

Okay, so they _were_ sparring. It was a fairly regular occurrence now, for the upkeep of both of their fitness and to give Naruto a peace of mind. Regularly, they unroll mats on the floor of his condo and spar. It gives Hinata an adrenaline rush that she has missed for far too long, blood pumping hard in her ears, heart thumping in her chest.

But there was something about sparring, about the sweat dripping down their backs, and their unabashed ferocity. There was a way that the adrenaline rushed through them, emotions raw and intense, that always made it end in sex.

She doesn’t mind much. She hums happily, pulling at his damp tank top as if that will bring him closer to her. His hands roam over the bare curves of her hips, over the thick muscles of her thighs as she straddles him. The wisps of her hair that have fallen out of her bun in the “scuffle” tickle her right between her shoulder blades.

Hinata breaks the kiss with a wriggling squeal, apologizing breathlessly as she tries to tie her hair back up. Naruto simply pulls her down to be pinned under him, her legs smoothly hitching up on his hips. She moans, eyes rolling back and she reaches behind her to clutch something — anything. She ends up grabbing onto him, nails digging into his biceps, mouth hot on his skin.

Naruto is her world, her universe, and being with him is like nothing else in this world. She would have it no other way, she thinks, looking into his bright blue eyes, intense and hooded as he shivers above her, slowing. He moans her name, eyebrows knitted together in a vision of perfect ecstasy, and she can think of nothing more satisfying.

He pulls her onto his chest, peeling her sweaty back off of the mats, her hair fanning itself out over him and the floor. He holds her close, breathing hard towards the ceiling, peppering the crown of her head with kisses. Hinata closes her eyes, idly tracing a pattern of scars on his belly. She can see the scar from the bullet wound that had started all this, pink and raised against his tan skin. It was still tender, though she knows he has experience in making sure it doesn't bother him.

She's considered telling him about the money. There's almost twenty thousand dollars just sitting in her bank account, earning interest and mocking her. She remembers the day that it hit her account, watching the numbers go from less than a hundred dollars to five figures. It seemed unreal.

She had sworn Kiba and Ino to secrecy, the only two who knew about the money. Honestly, she wouldn't have told Ino either — she was an absolute blabbermouth — but she knew that Kiba couldn't (and wouldn't) keep a secret like that from her. So they sat in her money hell, too.

Hinata doesn't want to tell him until it's enough to make a dent in his debt. She has Kiba to take her to auctions, to protect her as back-up, despite that she is perfectly capable of self-defense. She doesn't want him to worry about her more than he already does, which she knows is more than is probably healthy.

She worries about him, too. She doesn't like to think about what happens on his "trips." It startles her to think of how many times he has faced down the barrel of a gun, or what would happen if he got seriously injured. When he came back from his last mission, cut up, bruised up and favoring a shoulder that had only gotten put back in place several hours before, she was livid — and terrified. She had babied him for weeks, and he was not used to that _at all_.

She has a plan. They have a plan. _It'll all be okay_ , she tells herself.

Hinata relaxes as she focuses his heartbeat. It’s like hers, fast and rapid, beating through her pulse points like a drum. But it slows as they breathe together, deep and peaceful. She allows the tenseness and the worry to sink out of her and into the mats, leaving her limbs like jelly.

“How’d you learn to fight?” Naruto asks her, quiet.

“My father,” she says, trailing her fingers over raised skin of tattoos. “He ran an jujitsu dojo. Probably still does. Both me and my sister learned shortly after we could walk.”

“Did you like it?”

Hinata considers this for a moment. She misses the smell of fresh tatami mats and recently lacquered wooden doors. She misses the ambience of the koi pond, and the memories of playing in it on hot days with Hanabi. She misses the briskness in the air, of an open dojo and the sound of the birds chirping on a spring day.

She doesn’t miss the dread of her father’s too heavy footsteps, angry at her imperfections. She doesn’t miss the way he used to slam doors a little too quickly, or the quick slaps he would deliver if she was a little too slow. She doesn’t miss the feeling of wanting to die on a daily basis, of having a breakdown regularly about how she would do it. She doesn’t miss the tears she would shed writing her notes out to Hanabi and Neji.

She could never paint at home. Art was for losers who couldn't do anything better, who didn't _know_ how to do anything else. Creativity was quashed in the house, if it wasn't strategic in a fight.

Painting is a beautiful process — it sinks deep into her brain, pulling out the very epitome of her soul. But _fighting_? Fighting is pure, raw, intense. It reaches into a part of her she forgets she has sometimes, and pulls out everything she's been feeling, good and bad. It forces her to release them, to commit them to memory and fucking _do_ something about it.

She needs them both in her life. Her yin and her yang; the balance she has craved for so long.

“I liked the adrenaline,” she says, finally. “I liked the thrill of it."

She looks up and down at them, naked and melded together, covered in sweat and other things. They are vulnerable, open, and unabashed together.

“But this is much better,” she says, curling into him. “Much, much better.”

* * *

 

They sit in the dim light of the Sun & Moon, eating tacos off of wrappers on the floor. There’s a pile of hot sauce packages and napkins in the middle of their makeshift circle. Their sodas sweat condensation that would set rings in the hardwood if it wasn’t varnished to hell, and well taken care of. They laugh and smile and Hinata thinks about how strange it is.

She doesn’t know Sasuke very well, and he isn’t the most social person she’s ever met. But its comfortable being uncomfortable and awkward together. They’re the only two that don’t really have a solid connection out of this lunch group, but she doesn’t mind much. Sakura’s shared with her that he’s slow to connect with people, slow to trust and she’s the same. It’s comforting the way that they slowly interact, fleshing each other out.

He also knows that she used to date Sakura and isn’t insecure about it at all.

She was admittedly terrified when she first told Naruto that not only was she queer, but that she had a serious relationship with one of his best friends back in high school. It was the luck of life reconnecting with her, and she reassured him quickly that there were no residual feelings.

His reaction, of course, was to blush and look away. Hinata could pretty much guess his thought pattern after that.

It was nice to talk about their relationship with him, though. Even the bad parts. Despite being two girls dating in a homophobic small town, it was a fairy tale of a fling. Best friends since middle school, the relationship was typical of teenagers figuring out romance and sexuality. Fluttering kisses, soft skin, sneaking touches under skirts underneath the bleachers. Laughter during late night sleepovers, feeling devious as they skirted past their parents’ noses.

Neither of their parents had been supportive of the relationship, once they found out. The pressure from their parents was what really caused the relationship to fizzle.

Her father had never looked at her the same after that.

Naruto had enjoyed getting to hear about that part of her life, her past that wasn't so stained with tragedy. He was glad that they were able to reconnect, to be friends. He was able to recount with her how they had met Sakura, and how she was one of his best friends now. How all four of them, together, helped keep him happy and sane.

It was still nostalgic sometimes, to look at her soft lips and the pale flesh of her thighs and know how they feel under her hands. She sees how Sakura’s green eyes twinkle with love and hope and light when she looks at Sasuke, and remembers how they used to twinkle like that for her.

But then she looks at Naruto, and her heart is overwhelmed with love. His eyes don’t just twinkle, they gleam like ultraviolet. When his lips press against her skin, the heat is searing, as if she is sinking into the most pleasant lava bath of her life. The way his lips wrap around the words “darling" have the ability to send her into euphoria, pleasantly floating into space.

She doesn’t mind these developments at all.

Hinata's able to see the way that Sasuke and Naruto fit together, too. They're soulmates, destined to be in each others lives. She can respect that — Kiba and Shino are the same for her.

Her and Naruto had been surprisingly social lately. It was hard not to be social, sometimes, when you work and live with your friends. But they were starting to fit  in together with each other's circles, entangling in with one another.

She and Sasuke often talk while she waits for Naruto to finish with a client. Sasuke was a fan of black and white portraits, and enjoys working with charcoals in his free time. They compare sketches sometimes, or talk about brands. Their conversations are quiet and reserved, but meaningful in their own way. Just him initiating conversation with her is his own way of accepting her. She enjoys her small moments with him.

Naruto had already found his place in her circle of friends, too.

Him and Kiba bicker like brothers, but it fits the dynamic well. He's used to an older sister on his case all the time, and their good-natured ribbing adds another layer of familiarity. His relationship with Shino was similar, but much less pronounced. Shino excels at quick quips delivered in monotone, and Naruto tries to reply with equal wit. With Ino, he's charming and gentlemanly, but both of them sharing a dirty sense of humor and a flair for the dramatic. They have far too much fun teasing at Hinata's expense.

It's nice, she thinks.

The boys are making chili in the kitchen, Kiba and Naruto arguing over which spices to put in. Shino was quiet, stirring the cornbread batter methodically. Her and Ino are curled up on the couch, cuddling underneath a blanket to fight out the cold. She's tucked into Ino's side, who plays with her hair idly as they watch tv.

She's thankful for everyone's place in her life. She doesn't know what she would do with Shino's rationality, able to pull her out of any panic attack, or where should be without Kiba's fiery passion for everything in his life. Ino's presence in her life was the sisterhood she has been missing since leaving her own family, filling a hole that has never quite healed.

Now, she has Naruto.

Love has never particularly called to her before. High school flings and the occasional casual partner was vital in her discovering her sexuality, but she never quite yearned for the fairy tale love like she saw in movies, like she heard from her classmates. With everything else she's dealt with, it was never at the forefront. She was always worried about much more pressing matters — how to pay the bills, how to stay alive, how to not starve.

Naruto changed all that for her. He fills her thoughts, consumes her completely. It was a scary realization, at first, that she was in love with him. She's never been in love with anyone before, never loved anyone like that. Loving someone that completely was a vulnerability she wasn't sure how to accept.

Vulnerability with him was easy, that she knows. He makes it easy, with his soft touch, his gentle smile and the way he talks to her. The way he holds her tight at night, the way sadness creeps into his voice when he tells her he has a mission to go on. The way he creeps into her room in the early morning after a flight home, exhausted and reeking of sweat and metal, and smothers her in kisses as a greeting.

She's terrified to tell him.

When they finally head to her room for the night, she watches him as he undresses for bed. It's a sight she's seen plenty of times before, but his body always fascinates her. She watches his back muscles ripple as he pulls off his shirt, and she frowns looking at the scars that litter his skin here, too.

"What's wrong?" he says, catching her look.

She's quiet as he lays down in bed, pulling her into his arms. In spite of the quiet, he doesn't push her to answer. He knows how to read her, and he can see the gears turning in her head, figuring out how to say what she wants. It's one of the things she appreciates about him.

"I'm scared," she says quietly. "You're in danger so often. You… You worry about me all the time, but you don't let me talk about how worried I am about you."

"I'm sorry," he says, gently running his fingers through her hair. "You're right. You have every right to worry about me."

She gently breaks into tears, shuddering sobs wracking her body, and he holds her tighter. She clutches at his arms, nose pressed to his collarbone. She follows his gentle breathing, trying to calm herself.

"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," she stutters out finally, her tears clearing up. She sniffles, wiping away the sticky tears from her cheeks, before looking up at him. She cups his cheek in her hand, looking up into his bright eyes under her lashes. She bites her lip, scared. "I love you, Naruto."

He blinks, startled, and the pause between them fills her chest with terror.

Then he starts crying, too.

She's not sure what to do. She's never seen him cry — and this definitely isn't what she expected when she finally decided to build up the nerve to tell him she loves him. But she sits up and pulls him into her arms, now. She plays with the fuzz on the back of his neck, and hums a melody. She tucks her nose into the crown of his head, inhaling his scent.

He's a quiet crier, but every shiver of his shoulders breaks her heart.

"Please don't cry," she whispers, feeling tears well up again. "I'm sorry I upset you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry— "

"No, stop that," he says with a sniffle, sitting up to take her hands in his. His eyes are pink and puffy, but she's never seen a more determined look on his face. "Don't ever say you're sorry for that. Please."

"But…you…"

"Hinata, you have to understand," he says, brushing a strand of hair gently out of her face. "My whole life, all I've ever been to most people is someone to be used. A tool. I can count the number of people who have truly cared about me and my wellbeing on one hand."

She breathes in to reply, but he shoots her a look that asks her to let him talk. So she does, her eyebrows knitting together in sympathy.

"Just the idea that you love me, knowing everything that you know, putting up with all of this, worrying like you do… I'm just fucking floored." He pulls her to his chest now, tucking her head underneath my chin. "I'm amazed and overwhelmed by how much that means to me."

"I mean it," she whispers, pulling herself away to touch her forehead to his, her long lashes brushing against his as she blinks. "I love you, Naruto. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"I love you, too," he breathes, the sound stifling in the quiet buzzing in his ears.

Reality seems to far away in this dream she's in, where he's saying this to her, but his tight grip and his rapid heartbeat against her skin reminds her that it's real. He's real, and so is she, and this is really happening.

 "I will do everything to keep you safe. I'll do everything to make sure we have forever together. We're in this together, now."

"You better," she whispers, and kisses him like it's the last one she'll ever have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, things get real. 
> 
> please feel free to follow me on tumblr/twitter @ borzbois
> 
> if you enjoy my writing, please consider pledging to me on patreon (@borzbois) as well! my lowest tier is as low as $5


	15. and i'm just waitin' for the axe to fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how can i explain that feelin' remains?  
> when i looked at myself i was somebody else  
> mad visions and wild decisions were made  
> in the alleys that wind through the back of my mind
> 
> underline the black // metric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the soonest i've ever updated one after another, but i've had this scene written since i started this thing back in 2014

Hinata sips her champagne, profoundly more comfortable than she was the last time she was here.

The floor to ceiling windows still tower over her, nearly three stories tall for a single level. The chandeliers twinkle above her, and the crowd of wealthy art dealers mingle beside her, barely acknowledging her unfamiliar existence.

Hinata resists the urge to let her hair tumble down from its delicately pinned updo, with crystalline pins. Her dress tonight is a gentle lavender, slinky and elegant, the soft fabric pleasant against her skin. She had _maybe_ spent some money on a few proper dresses — it was a necessary expense, Ino had assured her. She can’t say she minds too much, with the way she feels all dressed up.

Kiba accompanies her again, this time in a properly fitted dress shirt that didn’t make him feel like he was choking. He stands with her, trying to shove finger foods down his face as politely and inconspicuously as possible. He had allowed his usually unruly hair to be slicked back elegantly, despite his grumbles.

They both fit in far better tonight than their previous escapades. They hold themselves with a practiced elegance now, though it is entirely fake. They still don’t mingle among the rest, keeping to themselves.

Hinata has made a significant amount of money at this point, her pieces selling for higher and higher at every auction. After tonight, she’s going to tell Naruto about the auctions and give him the money to help him. If all goes to plan, after her pieces sell tonight she should be able to give him a hundred and fifty thousand. The mere idea that a number that high is even in her worldview, is in her _bank account_ still baffles her.

A familiar face approaches her, and she turns on her customer service smile. He’s accompanied by someone new this time, and when he reaches for her outstretched hand to kiss it, she reflexively tights her grip on Kiba.

“Itachi,” she says. “How nice to see you again.”

“Miss Hyuuga,” he says, his voice deep and smooth. “A pleasure.”

She smiles politely, but her face is tight. She can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but he makes her nervous. Every time he comes near, her instincts scream at her to run. But he was also one of her highest buyers, so she forces herself to stay, despite the cold sweat that breaks out on her spine.

“This is my associate, Kisame,” he says, gesturing to the man besides him. “We’re business partners. I had to have him come see your work outside of my office.”

Kisame is a large man, towering over her by at least a foot. He’s also wide, rippling with muscles she can see even through the expertly tailored suit. He grins at her, extending a hand for her to shake, and his mouth is full of impossible white teeth. She shakes his hand, and his grip is tight and rough like sandpaper, his hands calloused and dry.

If Itachi makes her nervous, Kisame makes her terrified.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, feigning a perfect smile. “I hope you enjoy the auction. I have quite a few pieces up today that I think will catch your eye.”

“I look forward to it,” he says, and his voice is so deep and gravelly that Hinata can feel it vibrate in her chest. He grins wide at her again, and it threatens to send a shiver up her spine.

When they walk away, Hinata gives herself a minute to breathe and calm down. Kiba can sense her distress, and pulls her into his side and rubs her shoulder. He plays the dutiful boyfriend role well, and it wasn’t like the two of them were uncomfortable being so close. Hinata fakes a smile, as if Kiba was just being affectionate and she was enjoying it.

“Got a bad vibe from those guys,” he murmurs to her.

“Understatement.”

She’s thankful that Mr. Otogaka was sick today and she wouldn’t have to spend time socializing with him, either. He always managed to make her skin crawl, though she can’t pinpoint why. He had never given her any reason to, but she knows that every time he looks at her, she just gets a sick feeling in her gut.

There is a gentle ringing of a bell that signifies it is time to move towards the auction area. Tonight, they’ve set out plush velvet seats and have lit the ornate fireplace, logs crackling pleasantly. The heat is appreciated, and she sits as close to it as possible. It’s March already, but the spring snows are heavier here and the silky fabric of her dress does little to warm her.

Her art is later in the line-up, now. The more money her pieces sold for, the later they were brought out, to encourage spending for all the artists. It’s mostly portraits today, since those sold the most successfully.

There’s one of Naruto, stretched out on the couch of his office, taking a nap. There’s a study of the tattoos on his arm, painstakingly detailed and shaded. A study of his muscles, though that was in charcoal. A portrait of him deep in concentration, tattooing someone.

Hinata smiles as the the bids go up on that one. That had been from her sketches of him on their first date, but it took her forever to get the lighting right. Even now, she’s not too happy with it, having the real thing burned into her memory. Maybe one day, she’ll be good enough to get it perfect.

Her pieces sell as expected, garnering her a sixty thousand dollar profit. It was still unreal to her, that her paintings were worth that much money. It was less shock now, more just disbelief. It still felt like a dream, despite that she had been steadily watching this money grow and grow for the past several months.

She only stays long enough to thank some of her more prominent buyers personally and rub elbows, with Kiba firmly at her side. He is quiet but polite, which seems to match the other artists’ significant others. Their cover is solid.

“Ready to go?” she asks, sending him a tired smile.

“Definitely.”

“I have to use the bathroom, can you wait for me?”

“Sure, I’ll go warm up the Jeep. I’ll see you there.”

Hinata turns on her heel to use the restroom when she realizes that she has no idea where it is. Thankfully, a waiter passes by her holding a tray of food and she stops him. His directions are vague, but it’s better than wandering around aimlessly in search of finding the right door.

She’s never been in the back of the mansion before, only ever mingling in the two main rooms.  She’s still a little lost in the ornate oak polishings of the small hallway, but she eventually finds the small bathroom. It’s fixings are as elaborate as the rest; the sink is designed to be a waterfall, with pristinely polished steel and there are dozens of warm, fluffy hand towels and a hamper to place them in after use.

Hinata is about to roll her eyes and leave, until she hears two very familiar voices outside the door.

“How much longer do we have to keep this up for?” she hears Kisame grunt. “Hate fuckin’ suits. Hate spendin’ decent money on fuckin’ pictures.”

“As long as we need to,” Itachi’s voice replies smoothly. “The intel is valuable. Her house is being watched as well, we just need to arrange for a suitable and _inconspicuous_ capture. We cannot draw attention to ourselves or attention to Orochimaru’s business.”

“Can’t believe he found Uzumaki’s girl. He sure is making a ton of money off of her.”

“Which is why if we draw attention to the fact that these auctions are just a cover for gang intel exchange, we will never be invited back. This could be our chance to crush Konoha once and for all, and finally bag the price on Uzumaki’s head. Can you imagine what he would do once he hears that we’ve kidnapped her?”

Hinata’s heart stops in her chest, and she has to steady herself on the granite countertop so she doesn’t faint. As she does so, her phone clatters to ground, loud on the tile.

“Is someone in there?” Kisame’s voice calls out.

“J-just finishing up,” she calls out, cursing herself. “Just, um, just a moment, please.”

The doorknob rattles like a gunshot in the quiet, and her heart beats painfully in her chest. Her skin is cold, her hands shaking as she picks up her phone.

 **to: kiba  
** _you need to go without no time to explain when you get back call naruto and tell him ive been selling art to someone name orochimaru otogaka and there are two people here named itachi and kisame talking about konoha if he doesnt answer call these numbers until someone answers and tell them the same thing_

She sends him Sasuke and Sakura’s number and steels herself. She deletes the messages and puts her phone in a strap fastened to the inside her thigh. Maybe she can keep it from them long enough that Naruto can track her to wherever she’s going.

She takes a breath and smooths out her hair before unlocking the door, to see Kisame and Itachi standing shoulder to shoulder at the door, their faces no longer charismatically pleasant. She doesn’t know how she failed to notice how athletic Itachi is as well, but she can see it now, in this wide shoulders and against the tight seams of his suit.

“Gentlemen,” she says, trying to feign a smile and clasp her hands in front of her to keep from shaking. “Excuse me, it’s all yours now.”

They don’t move.

“We can do this one of two ways,” Kisame says, crossing his impossibly huge arms and grinning widely. “You can come with us, _quietly_ , to our car. Or you can try to make a fuss, and we have the car that’s following your _boyfriend_ home cause an...unfortunate accident.”

The emphasis on the word “boyfriend” was not missed with the widening of his sickening smile. The breath is stolen out of her lungs but she tries not to let it show on her face.

“There’s no need for a scene,” she says, trying not to think about how her voice shakes a little. “I’ll go with you.”

“You save face well,” Kisame says as they walk in a line towards the huge double doors that leads down to the valet. “But I can smell the fear on you.”

Itachi opens the door for her, as if he was a gentleman. As if he wasn’t just trying to make sure she didn’t make a run for it as soon as she got outside. Not like she could get anywhere far in this dress and heels, on a gravel road no less.

She locks eyes with Kabuto as he is directing staff to load art pieces in. It makes sense that Mr. Otogaka would have his right hand man handling everything in his absence, especially if it was a cover for intel exchange. Kabuto’s face changes as he spots her with Itachi and Kisame,  almost imperceptibly. It’s almost like he says “I’m sorry,” his eyes softening and his frown deepening for just a moment, before he goes back to his task. 

He must know what he has condemned her to.

But that’s his job, and his burden to bear.

* * *

 

Kiba doesn’t know what the _fuck_ is going on.

He reads this text from Hinata again at a stoplight, before dialing Naruto’s number. Straight to voicemail, which apparently she knew to expect. He dials the next number, which he doesn’t recognize.

“Hello?” a soft voice answers. A woman.

“Hi, uh, this is weird, but um, I’m Kiba and—”

“Oh, you’re Hinata’s roommate, right? This is Sakura.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He breathes shakily, running his free hand through his hair. “Uh, something weird happened.”

“What happened? Is she okay?” Her once soft voice turned steely, and he can hear some interference on the phone as she switches it to speaker, her voice sounding farther away.

“Uh, so we were at an art gallery and she went to use the bathroom. I got a text from her telling me to leave immediately, and to call Naruto and tell him that she’s been selling art to an Orochimaru Otagaka and that there were two people named Itachi and Kisame talking about Konoha. Then she sent me your number and another if he didn’t answer.”

“ _Shit_ ,” a deep voice responds, sounding far away. 

“Kiba,” Sakura says again, “you need to go straight home. Lock all the doors, all the windows, don’t let anyone in, and don’t seem suspicious. Just be calm. Can you do that, Kiba?”

“Y-Yeah, but what the fuck! What the hell did Nata get herself into?”

“That’s not your concern—”

“The hell it is,” he snarls, gripping the steering wheel with white hot knuckles. “Don’t give me that bullshit!”

“Kiba,” the deep voice says again. “I know what you mean, but for right now, the less you know the better. We’re going to take care of this, and get Hinata home safe, okay? Can you trust us?”

“I don’t even know who you are!”

“Kiba. Can you trust us?" 

“I guess I’m going to have to,” he grumbles, but his heart still beats like a hammer in his chest. He sighs, pressing his forehead to the steering wheel. “Just — please, bring her home safe.”

* * *

 

She sits in the back of a sleek black sedan, with tinted windows and leather interior. It smells almost like bleach, and she wonders if they’ve had to clean blood out of the car before. She wonders if they’ll have to clean hers out of it, too. She doesn’t miss the gun that’s pointed at her the moment they’re all in the car, either.

It’s strange, she thinks, staring down the barrel of gun. It’s so lazily pointed at her, as if she is just an afterthought. Kisame doesn’t even look at her, just aims it over the shoulder to make sure she doesn’t try anything. Though they all know that she won’t. She wants to imagine that she feels her phone buzz frantically through her thigh, Naruto calling and texting to find out if she’s really okay.

But her phone’s on silent. And it would continue to be.

At some point, they place a bag over her head so that she can’t follow the directions to where she’s going. She doesn’t blame them, but it ups her panic more. She can only see the streetlights they pass faintly through the dark fabric, the sweat of her palms unnerving. She wrings her hands in her laps, finally allowing her silent tears to fall in privacy.

She’s trying not to let the panic set in, but here where feels safe and alone it’s hard not to. She feels herself slowly beginning the start of a panic attack, breathing heavily as if that will stave off the hyperventilating that’s sure to come next.

But then the car comes to a stop, and she’s wrenched out of the car by Kisame’s large hands. He’s not gentle, either, as he leads her forward, the cool metal of his gun pressing against her back. The gravel crunches under their shoes, and she stumbles a few times, her heels getting caught in the potholes that she can’t see.

They seat her down somewhere after pushing her around what she assumes is a house, before pulling the bag off. They’ve bound her hands behind her back, to the metal frame of the chair she’s sitting in. Her ankles, too. She sits in a featureless room, the window covered up with cardboard and duct tape.

“Well, well, well,” a new voice calls from behind her, though she doesn’t turn her back to see. She keeps her head up, trying to pretend like there aren’t tears streaked with mascara down her cheeks. “What a lovely surprise for me today.”

He walks in front of her, shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. He’s dressed nice, in a maroon button-up and a gray vest, his sleeves rolled up to his ankles. It’s a good look for him she admits begrudgingly — he’s tall and thin, she would even call him pretty. His long blond hair is tied up in a ponytail, the ends brushing between his shoulders. His smiles at her, his eyeliner bringing even more attention to his startling blue eyes.

“Deidara,” he says, holding out a hand for her to shake. “A pleasure.”

Hinata looks at his hand pointedly, then shrugs.

“Of course,” he laughs, putting his hand back in his pocket. “Silly, silly me.”

He trails around the room several times, circling her. She’s not sure what he’s looking for, but she becomes comfortable in the silence. Even if her heart feels like a jackhammer in her chest, and her hands shake in their binds. She’s grateful that at least her dress is long and covers her spread legs.

“Hinata Hyuuga,” he says finally, letting the words wrap around his tongue. “You are such a treat.”

She stays quiet, following him slowly with her eyes. She tries not to scowl, but she thinks her face betrays her.

“Pretty thing,” he says, trailing a hand across her shoulder, and she can’t help the squirm she does to get away from his touch. He grins when he sees that he’s finally drawn a reaction from her. “And oh how _useful_ you’ve been, too. We’re closer than we’ve ever been thanks to your hard work.”

“Fuck off,” she finally spits.

“Oh! She speaks!” he says, clapping his hands. “Here I was worried that you were a timid little mouse. You do put on such a brave face.”

She smiles wryly at him, her eyes narrowed into slits. “So, what do you intend to do with me? Torture me for information? Because I have none.”

Deidara laughs, pulling out a pocket knife and flipping it over and over in his hand. The pearlescent handle glints in the low light, shimmering with the same lavender as her dress. Her throat goes dry as she eyes it, forcing her to swallow back bile.

“We know that, sweetheart,” he says, kneeling next to her, trailing the knife’s edge along the exposed pale of her thigh. “No, we’re going to keep you here ‘till the blondie himself comes to save your pretty face. Then, we’re gonna shoot him. And maybe, if you’re a good girl, we’ll let you go.”

Hinata looks at him, contempt in her eyes, and spits in his slimy, grinning face.

There’s a sharp sound as he slaps her across the face, _hard_. She lets out a squeak, her face stinging. Her must have hit her nose a little, from the way it throbs and from the stars she sees in her vision. She gasps, blinking hard against the spots in her vision.

“Listen,” he says, the smarmy smile long gone, replaced with a determined scowl. “You understand how worthless you are to us, don’t you? I could kill you without a second thought.”

He jams his knife into her thigh and she screams.


End file.
